


An Unexpected Visitor

by nightmares06, PL1



Series: Brothers Unexpected [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Borrower OC, Borrowers - Freeform, Caring Dean Winchester, Communication, Coping mechanism, G/T, Gen, Mute - Freeform, Mute Dean Winchester, Original Character - Freeform, The Borrowers - Freeform, Weechester, giant tiny - Freeform, oscar the oc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29032524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmares06/pseuds/nightmares06, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PL1/pseuds/PL1
Summary: Ever since losing his younger brother, Dean Winchester has had a difficult time coping. Left at a motel while his father is off on a hunt, he doesn’t even have Bobby Singer around to help him adjust to his new life without Sam.However, there is one other person that slips into his room, and Dean’s about to discover more than he ever expected.
Series: Brothers Unexpected [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1466695
Comments: 19
Kudos: 52





	1. The Lonely Ones

“Class, say hello to Dean Winchester, our new student at school.”  
  
“Hello, Dean.”  
  
The mumbled response to the teacher’s introduction left much to be desired, but it was more than Dean had received in other places. He stood at the front of the class, hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders slouched. As the last words of welcome tapered off, Dean gave a jerky half-wave, doing his best to avoid catching anyone’s gaze.  
  
“He’s new in town, so let's give him a proper Breckenridge welcome. His dad says he doesn’t talk, but be sure to be polite.”

Artwork by @creatorofuniverses on tumblr!  
  
Dean’s cheeks burned with shame. It figured his dad would find a way to ruin this school just like all the rest. Bad enough the entire time spent at Bobby’s revolved around either learning his weapons when he was alone or being berated by John for slipping in his training. All he had to hold onto during that month-long stay was that one night Bobby had taken him inside to make him eat, and they’d sat around watching movies for the rest of the night.  
  
It wasn’t his _fault_. The words choked up inside his chest and refused to leave. Every time his dad yelled, something inside curled up a little tighter, balling into a cocoon for protection.  
  
Keeping his head down, Dean made his way to the back of the class. Maybe he could escape his dark thoughts here. Just blend into the anonymous mass of the student body and ignore the snickers that followed him.  
  
Laughs and jeers were nothing compared to the gaping hole in his chest that threatened to devour him from the inside out.  
  
Sam was gone. Dean had failed his little brother, and all he had left was the memories of their time together and the amulet that hung heavy against his chest. Compared to that loss, nothing else mattered.  
  


* * *

  
Dean was glad to put the long school day behind him at last. It was full of awkward half-conversations and condescending looks from people who acted like they gave a rat’s ass about Dean Winchester, the new kid. One teacher even went so far as to insist Dean go to counseling once a week. He had no intention of showing up, and skipped out before the final bell rang to avoid it.  
  
What did any of this matter, anyway? He was only in town until his dad finished the case. One month, max. After that, it was on to the next town and the next school. A pattern that had repeated itself Dean’s entire life, over and over again. _Sam_ was the one that wanted to stay in one place for school. Dean never cared, so long as his family was close by.  
  
Now, that family was gone and Dean was left to carry on.  
  
One month. He could do that. Then he’d be back on the road where he belonged. He might even be able to convince his dad to bring him on the next hunt. Dean had a duty to Sam’s memory. He would do his best to keep other kids from getting hurt like Sam.  
  
Sam would like that.  
  
These thoughts carried Dean all the way through his walk back to the motel. He paused briefly at the door to fish his key out.  
  
The door swung open with a creak. After a quick check to make sure the salt lines around the doors and windows were unbroken, Dean tossed his backpack on the second bed and let himself collapse on the first. His eyes drifted shut, glad to be behind closed doors and away from the judgmental looks.  
  


* * *

  
Oscar greeted his waking with sluggish eyes and a wide yawn. His bed, an uneven pile of blankets and rags bunched into a nest, cradled his body in a soft embrace. It was never as soothing as hugs from his mom used to be. The memory of her arms curled around him to keep him safe and warm when he got cold at night was blurring at the edges. Oscar sighed quietly, lingering under the blankets for a second longer.  
  
“G’d’mornin’,” he mumbled to himself. The tiny, piping sound of his sleepy voice didn’t carry any further than the first few layers of blankets piled on top of him. His house didn’t say anything in return to his greeting, but sometimes he spoke aloud to himself. Breaking up the silence there was one way to make it his.  
  
Standing less than two and a quarter inches tall, Oscar needed to maintain quiet in everything he did. He was too small to risk drawing danger to himself. Outside his home, danger abounded.  
  
A rat or a spider could accost him in the dark passageways within the hollow walls of the _Knight’s Inn_ motel. Dust coated the ground out there, creating a texture that he grew up knowing. Near total darkness filled the space like another one of his blankets.  
  
Oscar wasn’t the only one hiding in the comforting blackness of the walls. Mice and some small bugs were okay neighbors. If spiders tried to move in, he had to shoo them away with a long splinter of wood. He had no idea what he was supposed to do if a rat moved in, but so far the question never came up for real.  
  
Even a rat couldn’t be as frightening as a _human._  
  
The giants who ran the world and stayed in the motel could make dust rain down in the walls just by walking around. They had loud voices and heavy steps, and big, strong hands. Oscar had never met one. He didn’t want to. His mom always warned him to stay out of sight.  
  
With a huff, he pushed the blankets off of himself, setting aside his thoughts. It was a new day, and that meant another day of chores and seeking supplies. His pantry was woefully sparse, as it was all the time. Oscar would need to go out into the rooms.  
  
He closed his eyes and shuddered. The human rooms were _scary,_ but he didn’t have a choice.  
  
He clambered out of bed and passed into the small main room of his house. His bag waited next to the ring box he used as a comfortable chair, and Oscar scooped it up. Weak light leaked into the small home, pointing like a beacon to the block of wood he used for a door.  
  
_Just another day. More crumbs to eat. Then I’ll come back and do chores._ He took a slow breath and crossed the small room, pushing the door open with his skinny arms, emitting a quiet grunt of effort.  
  
The easiest room to access from his home still required him to find a way into the motel’s ventilation system. A short walk from his home and a turn to follow the duct led Oscar to a loose piece of metal in the side. It was a good door for him, one the humans would never find to repair. Perfect for someone so little.  
  
After wriggling through the opening and pushing the cold metal back into place, Oscar began his slow trek towards the room. His feet fell softly and silently in the vents, helped by the cloth wraps he used for shoes. One hand was tucked into his worn cloth bag, clutching the metal of a safety pin so hard that it grew warm under his touch.  
  
He reached the opening of the vent in due time and peeked out. This was the scariest part. Oscar watched as much of the room as he could see and listened intently. There were signs in the rumpled bed covers that a guest was staying there.  
  
Oscar couldn’t make out any signs of a human in the room. No water running in the bathroom, no slow breathing of a slumbering giant. No creak of the chair at the table, and no electronic hum from a muted TV.  
  
That was his cue.  
  
The vents were more than wide enough for Oscar to step up onto the base and walk right through. He hopped down to the carpet, eyes wide and scanning the room like he always did. The ceiling stretched incredibly far overhead and the floor was a broad expanse of thick carpet fibers. Humans were so big that they’d worn a path into it.  
  
The fear that always accompanied remained hand in hand with Oscar as he skirted along the wall of the room. The huge open space put more pressure on him than the dark in the walls ever could, and his little heart pattered. The sooner he could find some food, the sooner he could duck back into safety before considering another room.  
  


* * *

  
He was under the bed when he heard it.  
  
A key, probably more than half Oscar’s height, sliding into the lock on the door. Ice surged through his veins and he froze. There was nothing else he _could_ do.  
  
Oscar had a view of the nightstand between the two beds, beyond a forest of dustbunnies, as the door creaked open. With agonizing slowness, a piece of wood impossibly tall and heavy for someone his size swung open to admit the human stepped into the room. Oscar’s legs tensed. He’d gotten himself stuck in rooms with humans in them before, but it never got easier. He was too _small._  
  
Heavy footfalls that Oscar could never miss vibrated through the floor. Same usual routine; a few steps, then the percussive click of the door shutting. Oscar held his breath and stared straight ahead.  
  
Something crashed onto the other bed, and before Oscar could glance in that direction, the entire world around him quaked. The bed frame and the mattress it supported both released noises of protest as the human crashed onto them. Thinking quickly before he could yelp in terror, the room’s hidden occupant lifted his hands and clamped them over his mouth. Oscar stared upwards at the underside of the mattress with wide brown eyes.  
  
For a kid barely more than two inches tall, just a step could cause a small earthquake.  
  
Oscar was used to the feeling of humans walking around. They were always stomping about as they got ready for something or other, and Oscar tried his best to keep himself well out of their way. He was still learning the routines, though, and hadn't expected anyone in this room for some time.  
  
It was hard to learn these things by himself, but he didn't have any other options. His mom was gone and she had been for a while. He had been seven when he last saw her, and he was eight now, he was sure. It was hard to navigate a world so big by himself.  
  
She would have known what to do in this situation. He was under the bed with a human in the room, and he didn't have any exits into the walls. It was safer in there by far, where he could take quiet steps and keep to himself and the humans never bothered with his surroundings. They were giant, unpredictable people in most things, but at least they could be counted on to ignore the space that Oscar called home.  
  
He glanced across the floor, past piles of dustbunnies and the wide expanse of worn out carpet. Past the second bed and the dresser was his vent, low in the wall.  
  
It felt so far away. Oscar lowered his trembling hands from his face and took a slow, quiet breath. At least he knew how to be quiet.  
  
He was frightened of the human above. Oscar had found a small, stale piece of bread. It could have been from the previous motel guest, but if this one found out he took it, he could be _mad._ Then he might want to hurt Oscar, and the tiny child would be helpless.  
  
He crept towards the edge of the bed. His wrapped feet pushed softly through the dust piles until he was just at the edge of the bed. He stared straight up.  
  
He almost ducked back immediately at the sight of a hand draped over the side. It wasn't moving, so he took a slow breath instead. He could do this. All he had to do was move quickly and stay out of sight. So long as the human stayed up on that bed and slept, he'd be fine.  
  
Biting his lip to steel himself, he clutched his bag closer. Then, he bolted across the space between the beds. All he had to do was dive under the other one, and he'd have a safe place to get closer to his vent.  
  
Halfway out, he tripped on the thick carpet fibers. Stumbling, he toppled forward and landed on his front with a quiet _Oof!_ that sent ice up his spine. A _sound_ had escaped him. One of the biggest rules about going to the rooms, and he’d broken it without meaning to.  
  


* * *

  
The tiny sound was just barely audible over Dean’s breathing. His eyes blinked open, staring blankly up at the ceiling while what he’d heard sunk into his head.  
  
Dean sat bolt upright as he realized that it meant he wasn’t alone in the room, one hand brushing away the tears that had crept up on him while he let his guard down in privacy. So much for _that…_  
  
The room was still and silent, and as Dean scanned his surroundings with a hunter-practiced eye, he wondered what he could have heard. It was so soft, maybe it was from one of the adjoining rooms. They didn’t have very good walls here, and sound came right through them.  
  
Then his eyes fell on the ground, and he sucked in a breath of shock.  
  
A tiny child was down there, staring over his shoulder at Dean. Green eyes met much smaller browns, both kids holding their breaths.  
  
Instinct and intense curiosity compelled him out of the bed, and Dean found himself lurching towards the little kid with a hand, a voice in his head telling him that it wasn’t _safe_ for a tiny child to be down there all alone. If Dean hadn’t seen him, it would be all too easy to miss him down there. His heart clenched at the thought of being the cause of another kid’s pain, maybe even killing them by accident, just like _Sam_ was killed.  
  
Everything around Oscar slowed down or dropped out of awareness to draw his focus to that hand rushing at him. From the moment that human had laid eyes on him, he'd known this would follow. The ground quaked from the giant feet hitting the floor, but Oscar’s pounding heart drowned out the sound.  
  
His mouth opened in a soundless yelp of fear and he tried to lurch backwards, scooting with his hands. The hand came closer and closer and beyond it he could see the human's focused, intense gaze. Caught. He was spotted and now the human was after him. Huge fingers bigger than his body stretched closer and closer and pressed Oscar’s aura of terror around him.  
  
He couldn't stop this from happening. It was going to go exactly as his mom always warned him it would if a human spotted him.  
  
He'd be captured and claimed, like a pet or a toy. They might keep him in a _cage_ so he couldn't get away, couldn't go free ever again. He might get hurt when the human realized why he was in the room, and he wouldn't have any excuse other than he was hungry. Who knew if that would work?  
  
The terror overwhelmed him and he couldn't even prop himself up on his hands. With a cry, Oscar fell backwards, only to roll onto his side and curl up into as small a ball as he could. He was desperate to avoid getting hurt.  
  
Those fingers reached him, settling around Oscar’s terrified huddle like a living cage. Oscar couldn't see them with his head covered, but he could _feel_ the presence around him. His breathing and heart both paused when they closed in, shoving under his tiny form to gather him up. For a moment, Oscar was knocked out of his protective ball as the other hand joined the first and they both cupped around him, sealing him in completely.  
  
Then, his stomach _lurched_ as the hands lifted and took him with them. He could see the silhouettes of fingers bigger than his tiny body, from light just barely slipping between them. He was trapped.  
  
_Please don’t hurt me!_  
  
Dean felt some of the worry and tension leave him as his hand closed around the tiny figure, scooping him easily off the ground. Now, at least, he didn’t have to fret about a tiny kid on the floor that he could accidentally _step_ on.  
  
Lifting his hands, still closed around the tiny boy he’d seen on the floor, staring up at him with equally wide-eyed shock to what Dean felt, he wondered if he’d really seen what he _thought_ he saw. A tiny kid? In his _room._ Dean knew a lot of stuff out there that people thought were myths or fairy tales were real, but… tiny kids?  
  
Was he living _The Borrowers?_  
  
He hesitated with his hands cupped close to his face. He had to be imagining things. He was going to open up his hands, and there would be nothing in there. _Or,_ he amended, feeling a tiny weight in there and ticklish flutters against his palm, _there’ll just be some mouse or moth. Can’t be a kid._  
  
If John could see him now, sitting on the floor with his hands cupped around an imaginary kid, he’d never hear the end of it. But… if he _wasn’t_ imagining things... Dean took a deep breath to steel himself. He knew if Sam was around, he’d want to help such a tiny kid out. The little guy could be hurt, lost, looking for his family…  
  
Dean carefully opened a crack in his hands to peer in, still in disbelief of what he’d seen only moments ago. When he spotted a fearful face covered in tears, he let out a gasp, the closest he’d come in over a month to actually talking, and closed his hands up again.  
  
He _definitely_ wasn’t holding a mouse.


	2. Defying Expectations

The motion stopped and Oscar winced. Already his face was wet with tears, silently released when he was paying more attention to his rising prison. This couldn't be happening, and yet it was. He'd been caught by a human, just like his mom warned would happen if he wasn't careful. Now, that human had all the control.  
  
Light broke in and Oscar looked up. There was a flash of one of those green eyes again before the hands closed, and he flinched.  
  
Oscar pushed timidly against the hands around him. The thick skin had some give to it, but there was no chance of prying himself free. Oscar had his safety pin in his bag for climbing, but he knew that using it as a weapon would only anger the much larger person. He might not even draw blood before the pin was taken away. He couldn't help but imagine those hands closing in and squeezing him between them as a punishment. There’d be nothing left of him.  
  
He drew in a rattling breath, a desperate sob, and curled up again. It was _too much._ A low, plaintive wail escaped him as he began to cry in earnest this time. All consideration of silence left, and his voice came out reedy and terrified. "Please, please d-don't hurt me!"  
  


* * *

  
Hearing that tiny voice from inside his own hand just drove in the shock for Dean. There was a tiny child in there. His hands were holding an entire person, and he could only vaguely feel them moving. The boy couldn’t stand much more than two inches in height. Just one of Dean’s fingers was longer, and probably stronger.  
  
Practically holding his breath, Dean opened up his hands again. The fear in that soft voice almost broke his heart, remembering hearing Sam cry out for him right at the end before the witch struck.  
  
 _I’m not gonna hurt you_ was on the tip of Dean’s tongue, but he couldn’t force the words past the block in his chest. Remembering Sam’s cries for him wound up that tension all over again, and tears insisted on creeping up on him. Dean tried to force them away. _No,_ he thought to himself with determination. He needed to keep himself steady.  
  
The little kid in his hands was curled into an even tighter ball now, sobbing to himself as he begged Dean to not hurt him. He was so little that he slid right into the divot in Dean’s palm as he shifted one of his hands free. Dean’s index finger was cautious, but he nudged lightly at the little shoulder, and then brushed down the tiny back to see if he could calm the child down since his words betrayed him. While he did this, he shifted where he sat so he was leaning against the bed, his legs propped up and his hand held close enough to see that tiny face and the fear that was so clear on it.  
  
Oscar's stomach did flips from the movements all around him and out of his control. At best, he could tell that the human hadn't stood up, but with his eyes closed he couldn't glean anything more. Besides, it was the touch of a huge fingertip that held his attention. His breath hitched as the contact slid down his small back. The hands were so powerful that such a gentle gesture caught him off guard.  
  
It didn’t stop the tears. In fact, a few seconds after that first tremulous touch, he wailed harder. The sound crashed weirdly in his skull; he was sure he’d never cried so hard.  
  
He’d never been caught by a human before. It was probably a good time to cry as much as he dared.  
  
The sheer emotion ached in his chest and his head throbbed. Even his eyes stung, and his cheeks were pink from the tears streaking down them. Oscar kept it up for several minutes while the fear and uncertainty built up over a year of unbearable loneliness came to a head.  
  
A growing part of him realized that he was still alive and _not_ in a cage, and he found himself latching onto that thought even as the giant fingertip nudged at his back. Slowly, like a gentle tide, the tears waned, leaving him exhausted and trembling.  
  
He hiccupped and shifted so he could rub at his eyes with his knuckles once the tears slowed. He only had so much in him, and as that ran out, a strange clarity settled over the fear.  
  
After that, he squirmed away from the fingertip brushing at his back just enough that he could push himself up and sit on the huge palm. He still hugged his knees close and hid most of his face behind them, but his eyes scanned around himself.  
  
"A-are you gonna …” he began, his voice cutting off into a faint squeak. His nerves made his heart flutter. Instead of asking if the human would lock him up, he glanced at those green eyes so near and then ducked his head with a shaky sigh.  
  
Dean’s eyes widened at how afraid the kid sounded in his hands, and how those rosy little cheeks glistened. He glanced away, ashamed of how he couldn’t open his mouth and reassure the kid like he _should_. He didn’t want the little guy scared or nervous, but anytime Dean was reminded of Sam he couldn’t get a word out-- and _everything_ reminded him of his little brother, even just putting on his boots when he thought of the days he’d spent teaching Sam to lace up his boots.  
  
It didn’t help that the brown-eyed, floppy-haired kid sitting in the palm of his hand reminded him _so much_ of Sam. He was even scrawny just like Sam had been.  
  
With a sigh, Dean resigned himself to being unable to explain himself, and settled for touching the little kid’s arm again with a reassuring rub, then moving his finger under his chin. Tilting the kid’s chin slightly upward, Dean met his gaze with an earnest stare, searching for any hints of pain at the same time to make sure he hadn’t hurt him. The little guy seemed so vulnerable, his tiny arms so skinny as they wrapped around his tiny legs.  
  
There were no signs of pain on Oscar's face, only shock and wariness for the contact. Despite how big the human's hands were, he managed not to wrench Oscar's neck with his gentle movements, and Oscar sat frozen for a second or two, staring up. The human just looked at him, which was scary but not unexpected. He shuddered anyway. He could feel the ridges of the enormous fingertip under his chin.  
  
Hesitantly, and wondering if he'd get himself in trouble for it, Oscar lifted one of his hands and braced it carefully on the side of the fingertip extended towards him. The whirling patterns of fingerprints stood out in easy relief to his small hand. He used that careful touch to lean himself away from the human propping his chin up, but he didn't duck his head like before.  
  
"Y-you, um," he began, leaning back but still watching the human's face carefully. The expression was intense and he couldn't be sure if it was the size and proximity or the human's usual expression.  
  
"You aren't mad at me?" he tried again, brushing at his eye with the heel of his hand. His voice quavered and cracked, clear signs that he might still be crying if he hadn't worn himself out.  
  
Dean couldn’t stop the fascination that crossed his face at the contact. The smallest hand he’d ever seen rested against his finger, and he barely even felt any pressure from it.  
  
With the kid now looking up, Dean moved his finger away, but not far. He couldn’t help but watch at how easily he moved the kid’s hand, and kept his fingertip close enough for that contact. Then, when he was sure he wouldn’t jar the kid from his hand too close, he shook his head a negative, hoping his point came across this way. He was far from angry. The closest emotion to that was the worry in him from finding such a small kid hiding in his room, clearly afraid.  
  
Despite his precautions, the hand the kid was sitting on shook slightly with his movement, and Dean winced at the sight of how easy it was for him to jar the little guy. He stared hopefully back, determined to reassure the kid and keep him from being afraid.  
  
Oscar tried to grip the fingertip close by with the hand that still rested on it, and he closed his eyes. It seemed like every move the human made was so much bigger than Oscar. He could even feel a pulse thumping away beneath him. He'd always known he was little for his age, but he felt so _tiny_ on that hand.  
  
Once things settled again, he opened his eyes. Oscar couldn't help but stare at how tiny his hand looked against those fingerprints, and after a beat of hesitation he pulled his hand back towards himself. He clutched the strap of his grey cloth bag nervously. The human wasn't angry at him, but that didn't mean he was safe.  
  
Just one glance at the edge of the hand proved it. Oscar was high off the floor. He sighed again and blinked a few times as tears stung his eyes. No one had ever told him what he was supposed to do when a human caught him. Every bit of advice his mother gave him was aimed towards not being caught at all. It didn’t seem fair that she would be gone when he needed her most.  
  
"I'm sorry for sneaking around," he insisted quietly, rubbing at his teary eyes again. "I don't want to be locked up, I was just looking around, I promise."  
  
Some of the fascination dropped away from Dean when he heard the soft voice so fearful, replaced quickly with worry. The kid had to be shorter than his pinkie and was worried he’d lock him up, and what made it worse was Dean knew he _could_ lock the child up if he wanted to. Had someone else done that to him in the past? Was that why he was so afraid now?  
  
Dean shook his head again and shrugged. He wasn’t going to lock up the kid, and he wasn’t mad at him for sneaking around. His hand moved with the motions again, and Dean cupped his fingers closer around the child to keep him away from the edges. He nudged the tiny arm again, trying to convey that he was just worried for someone so small being in the room without him knowing. If Dean wasn’t paying attention, one wrong move could hurt or kill the little guy. He cringed from the thought.  
  
The movement and the fingers moving closer would have had Oscar flinching back into a fearful ball if not for that careful nudge. He stared in confusion at the fingertip and wondered why the human kept poking at him. Then, he realized something that made him look up at the huge face again.  
  
So far, the teen hadn't said a word, not a single exclamation of surprise or even a "no". He'd only shaken his head or nudged at Oscar. Oscar bit his lip, pensive about the situation he'd tripped himself into. No loud voices. No cages.  
  
He pulled his bag onto his lap and hugged his legs again, this time in a looser curl than before. "Y-you don't ... I always thought a human would w-wanna hurt me or yell at me," he confessed. This one didn't fit those expectations at all.  
  
He sighed and rested his chin on his knees, staring at his small cloth-wrapped feet braced on an enormous hand. Even relieved as he was, there were a lot of things he still didn't know, and he'd worn himself out early.  
  
Dean almost recoiled at the thought of anyone hurting a kid so small, but then he forced himself to think about the situation logically.  
  
It was true. There were people out there that would want to do harm to someone like the little guy. Sam was a good example of a kid attacked for what Dean saw as no good reason. There would be more out there like that witch, and not all of them would be supernatural monsters like her. People went to jail all the time for hurting innocents. Dean’s dad didn’t bother with those people often, but they were out there and they could be more monstrous than the actual _monsters_.  
  
On the flip side of the coin, the little guy was either a human who’d been put under a spell-- Dean had read up on curses and hexes at Bobby’s more than once, but he’d never heard of a spell that could change someone’s _size_ so drastically-- or he wasn’t human. That could make him a target of hunters like John and Bobby.  
  
Dean turned his hand, looking at the kid from all angles. He didn’t _look_ like a threat, and not once had he tried to hurt Dean. Those tiny little arms and legs seemed so frail, like he hadn’t had a good meal for a long time. Dean refused to believe he could hurt anyone. Hell, the kid barely looked like he could hurt a _fly,_ never mind be a threat to a full-grown human.  
  
Then, there were regular people who could hurt someone so little. Either by accident, or curiosity. If Dean had picked him up the wrong way or put too much pressure on any of those little limbs, he could snap a bone.  
  
Reassured that the little guy wasn’t a threat in disguise, Dean wormed his index finger under one of the little guy’s arms so it was resting on his finger. Once there, he shook his head a negative. He wouldn’t hurt the kid, and he definitely wouldn’t be yelling any time soon. Dean’s thumb brushed a reassurance over the tiny hand before letting go.  
  
Oscar's eyes were wide and he stared at his arm resting easily on a fingertip. He took it back slowly, still staring at the size of the human's hand compared to him. His hand was held between two of those fingers and disappeared completely. He was so small and fragile, and yet he was intact. If he didn't see it himself, he wouldn't believe a human could be so gentle.  
  
Most of the motel guests were large, and loud, and stomped everywhere they went. Oscar had been taught to fear them since he knew how to walk, because he couldn't afford to mess up. Even if they didn’t see him, they could still crush him under their heavy shoes.  
  
He’d messed up today. He brushed at his eyes again and found that there were finally no new tears to replace the old ones. He'd cried himself dry and he was tired out from it. At least he wasn’t hurt.  
  
"Um," he began, in his quiet, cautious voice. He wasn't sure if he should, but he decided to introduce himself. "I-I'm Oscar. Thanks for not being mean to me." He never imagined he’d tell a human his _name._ This one was different from what he expected. No boisterous or angry exclamations slammed into Oscar’s tiny eardrums. It gave him _hope._  
  
Dean brightened up at the introduction, moving his hand away from Oscar to give the kid some space. Then, he realized he had no way to reciprocate. The thought of talking just twisted in his chest, stifling his words before he could utter a sound and leaving him sitting there with his mouth hanging open.  
  
Embarrassed, Dean closed his mouth and mulled over his situation. Aside from Bobby or John, Oscar was the first person he _wanted_ to talk to since…  
  
Well, since _Trails West._  
  
But this time, the thought of Sam also offered him a solution to his problem. Where at school, the teachers were insistent on introducing him whether he wanted to or not, here he _wanted_ to but couldn’t say a thing.  
  
So, instead, he reached into his jacket. In one of the inside pockets, tucked close to Dean’s chest along with a knife he’d made as a test run for Sam’s birthday present, was a picture. He pulled this out, blinking at the sight of his family, whole and happy. Mary holding Sammy, swaddled up in a blanket with Dean grinning next to them and John with his arms around everyone there.  
  
Dean held that up and tapped the blond-haired kid on the front, gesturing at himself. Then, he turned the picture over and tapped his name, arching his eyebrows at Oscar and hoping his idea worked.  
  
Oscar blinked a few times, almost dazed from the sudden appearance of the photo in the human's hand. It was the size of Oscar's bed, and depicted a scene he was unfamiliar with. Before he'd had a chance to really look, the image was flipped over and out of sight for him.  
  
He had to take a steadying breath. Humans moved fast, whether or not he was ready for it. At least this one didn't want to hurt him. Oscar might be stuck, but he wasn't in as much danger as he always would have imagined.  
  
After a second, he realized that the human was pointing out one of the words on the back of the photo. The letters were all bigger than Oscar's hand, written in tidy handwriting with fading ink. He stared at the singled out word and tried to recall his very basic education in reading. His mom hadn't had time to teach him all that much. Making sure he was ready to gather supplies was more important.  
  
"D-" he enunciated, and then immediately paused. His cheeks turned red while he whispered the sounds he knew to himself, trying to work out the pair of vowels. His hands worried the strap of his bag. "Eh, ah, um..." He huffed quietly and then his eyebrows shot up. "Dean?" he tried, saying it slowly and looking up at the human with a hopeful glint in his eyes.  
  
Dean nodded, the look in his eyes warm at Oscar’s hesitant attempt at his name. He tapped the name one last time, and then pointed at his chest, wanting to make sure Oscar understood. He mouthed _Dean_ once, then _Oscar,_ and lightly tapped Oscar on the head, ruffling his mop of hair and making it stick out at odd angles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the first time ever, we have a silent Dean and a comparatively talkative Oscar, meeting for the first time. Dean's doing his best to get his point across, but it's hard when he can't get the words out.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!
> 
> **Next:** February 3rd, 2021


	3. A Fluffernutter Sandwich

Oscar flinched on pure reflex and his eyes shut tight as Dean’s fingertip touched his head, but they soon opened wide and he stared up at Dean in surprise. "Huh?" He could feel his hair sticking out and his small hands lifted to brush through it. He was always bedraggled, but it felt strange to have his hair purposefully messed up. By a giant fingertip, no less; it left a phantom sensation on the crown of his head and he tried to brush it away while a confused expression slowly wrestled for control of his face.  
  
That done, Oscar hesitantly relaxed where he sat, letting his legs stretch out in front of him instead of curling them close. It was a cramped position that, for now, he didn't see as much need for. If Dean were to startle him, he might fold right back up, but for now the human seemed to be trying _not_ to scare him.  
  
It was a refreshing difference, even if he was still nervous with the whole room looming around them. He could actually take his time to look around, because he'd already been caught. Now, he’d be wasting energy trying to rush through his observations. _He_ was the target of a human’s observations.  
  
His head tilted back so he stared straight up. Vertigo tightened on his peripheral vision and he took a steadying breath. "The ceiling is so high up," he noted, almost to himself. He'd never truly had time to take a good look.  
  
Dean tilted his head back to look at the ceiling with Oscar, his brow furrowing as he tried to imagine how high up it was to the smaller kid. Oscar was barely two inches tall from what Dean could see, since the kid hadn’t stood since being caught. That made the ceiling soar over his head, like the skyscrapers Dean saw at a distance when the Impala passed close to one of the major cities.  
  
That gave Dean an idea, and a small grin came to his face. He glanced down at Oscar, examining how much more relaxed the kid was with him. The sight of the cloth strips Oscar was using for shoes momentarily distracted Dean from his plan, and he paused to curl his thumb just enough to brush at them to see if they were as sturdy as a pair of shoes. The little guy flinched, startled, and his leg drew back skittishly from the contact before relaxing again.  
  
With shoes like that, Dean imagined Oscar could slip in and out of a room undetected. There was no comparison between Dean’s sturdy boots and such cushioned fabric shoes. He wondered if that was how Oscar survived. It would explain why he was so upset when Dean spotted him. Now, Oscar watched his thumb move with caution, but not fear.  
  
His idea came back to him, and Dean cupped his hand closer to his chest. Pushing on one knee with his other hand, he stood, pausing to stretch his back as he reached his full height. Like that, he could stretch his free hand over his head, wiggling his fingers and grinning at Oscar when he fell just barely short of being able to touch the ceiling.  
  
Oscar stared up with wide eyes, an expression that was becoming his normal in the past few minutes. Dean nearly reached the ceiling standing up, and his outstretched fingertips were probably only two or three times Oscar's height from touching it. Oscar's momentary vertigo from sitting on Dean's hand as he stood came right back as he stared up. His head swam.  
  
"O-oh, gosh," he muttered, his hands finding Dean's nearby thumb. They rested on it like a railing and he finally looked down to peek timidly over the side of the hand. "Oh," he echoed, leaning away from the edge again. He wasn't _afraid_ of heights, as someone who had to climb giant furniture regularly, but Oscar had a healthy respect for what would be a devastating fall.  
  
Dean’s silence, at least, gave Oscar openings to speak. With no loud voices to drown him out, he was invited to fill the silence himself. "You're real tall," he said, seemingly agreeing with Dean's prideful look. "Guess the ceiling's not that high up after all, it's too _short_."  
  
Dean nodded sharply. One day, he planned on being taller than his dad. He wasn’t far away, either. The last time he’d checked his height (and Sam’s, but he tried to forget the wrestling match he’d gone through to get the kid to _sit still_ ), he’d been 5’4” tall, and he _knew_ he was already taller than that. Less than a foot to go before he finally made it. Dean Winchester was going to be a hunter that no monster wanted to mess with; he owed it to his little brother’s memory. Sam would be proud of him.  
  
Now that he was standing, Dean decided he was done sitting on the ground. It wasn’t the most comfortable spot to stay, and he was still curious about the tiny roommate he’d found on the floor. Curling his thumb around Oscar to keep him safe, Dean made his way over to the table. He just barely felt those little arms settling over his thumb in surprise, but thankfully he didn’t startle the little guy enough to make him squirm away. Dean’s instincts were against him walking with the kid just sitting on his hand like that, but he could remember the abject fear on his face less than ten minutes ago. Dean didn’t want to be the cause of that again.  
  
Once they were at the table, Dean took a seat and lowered his hand flat against the surface, curiously watching Oscar to see what he’d do.  
  
Oscar pushed himself to a stand as soon as the hand stopped moving. He stumbled almost immediately after getting his feet under him, the pliant skin beneath him affecting his balance like nothing else had before. He wondered if this is what it would be like to walk on one of the gigantic beds, with plushy covers sinking under even his small weight. His arms held out from his sides, he managed to step along Dean's fingers like a ramp until he could hop down to the solid surface. Here, the ground beneath him didn't have a pulse, and was cold by comparison. His toes curled in his cloth-wrap shoes.  
  
He was glad that Dean didn't keep him pinned down, however gentle he was. He didn't mind the security while Dean walked, with every long stride translating right up to his hand to clash with the rhythm of his pulse, but he didn't want to be stuck, either. Now, he found himself standing on the table with a human looking down at him curiously. He shifted his feet; Oscar wasn't sure what to do with an audience, let alone one that outsized him by several times.  
  
To the side, he saw something that usually drew him like a moth to a lantern. Breadcrumbs, left behind by some previous meal. On a normal day Oscar would be gathering each tiny piece in his bag, just in case it was all he'd find.  
  
"I found another piece of that bread on the floor earlier, before you came in," he announced, looking back up at Dean. "I ..." He stopped abruptly and felt his cheeks flush. That piece of bread wasn't on the floor anymore. Oscar had it stowed in his bag, and he'd more or less just admitted to Dean that he took something from the room.  
  
Dean put his chin on the table as Oscar talked, his brow furrowing but this time in concern instead of curiosity. He reached past the kid to pinch the tiny crumbs between his fingers and rubbed them together, turning them into a dusty smear on his fingertip. He missed Oscar’s intent stare at the motion.  
  
Was that what Oscar ate?  
  
Such a tiny bit of food seemed so pallid next to Dean’s _worst_ meal. He was no stranger to need, having spent more than one night hungry in order to keep enough food around for Sam to eat. He didn’t have to go without as often these days.  
  
It was easier to afford feeding just _one_ kid, and so John had left Dean one of his faked credit cards for the month-long stay in Breckenridge.  
  
Dean brushed off his fingers, then moved his hand to Oscar to poke at the other kid’s tummy, curious if that meant all he ate was crumbs and wondering if Oscar was hungry. It was late enough for Dean to eat, certainly, and he couldn’t see the other kid eating _much_ compared to himself.  
  
"Oh!" Oscar said in a surprised hush, stepping back from the poke. It nearly tickled, but more than that it was a strange feeling, all these nudges from a finger bigger than his body. It was remarkable that Dean hadn’t knocked him down. Humans had all of the strength where Oscar had almost none. He put his hands over his middle, absently clutching at the fabric of his shirt while he looked back at Dean.  
  
"I didn't eat it," he said, with the exact tone of a kid wanting to avoid trouble. "I just picked it up. I was _gonna_ eat it, um, later, but if you wanna I can put it back."  
  
Dean blinked at the reaction he’d gotten, then tried to combine a shrug with shaking his head _no_ while he still had his arm stretched out on the table, all to little effect. It was a really bad position for the motions Dean had adjusted to using to get his point across. He didn’t mind either way if Oscar took the crumbs, though he hated the thought of someone having to eat something that was on the floor for who knew how long before it was found.  
  
With a plan in mind, Dean sat up and shook his arms out. Sitting still for so long while holding Oscar in his hand left him feeling slightly antsy, but that could always be from the residual energy in him from his unexpected capture of the kid. Oscar was an exciting find, timid or not.  
  
By the mini-fridge that made up a good portion of the room kitchenette, Dean had left a loaf of bread (the original source of the crumbs on the table). He gathered that up along with two jars from the fridge, then worried his lip as he considered Oscar. A regular sandwich would be pretty hard for the kid to eat, but maybe if he squished it flat Oscar would be able to handle it. His hands were so tiny. Dean held out his finger, remembering the sight of a hand and most of an arm stretched out over his fingertip.  
  
He’d find a way to make it work.  
  
Dean brought the bread, peanut butter and fluff back over to the table along with a plastic knife so he could make a dinner for them and paused quickly to make sure he knew exactly where Oscar was before moving.  
  
Oscar was right where Dean left him, standing on the table with wide eyes. His hands clutched at the strap of his bag and his feet were close together, no longer shifting. With Dean moving around so quickly, Oscar had subconsciously decided to take up as little space as possible. He had to be ready if a sweeping movement came his way. Humans could hurt him by complete accident, because he was so small. Oscar had more luck than he ever anticipated following capture by a human, and he didn’t want to test it now.  
  
At first, he'd worried that Dean was upset about the loss of the breadcrumb. Oscar had taken it without asking, of course, because it was dangerous to simply ask for food. His mom had once told him that the humans had a word for what they did.  
  
 _Stealing._ Humans didn't like stealing.  
  
With his silent fretting fading into the back of his mind, he took one cautious step towards one of the jars that Dean brought over. He'd seen containers like it before. Some guests brought it, and one of the people that worked in the office had a jar like that one of the few times his mother had taken him to see.  
  
"A-are you gonna have some food?" he asked, staring up at the red plastic lid atop the peanut butter jar. Then, he looked up at Dean. Part of him wanted so much to ask if he could have just a little more bread, but his short lifetime of conditioning kept him from it. What he had taken would be enough for two days of eating if he really stretched things thin, assuming Dean truly didn’t want it back.  
  
Dean arched an eyebrow as he pulled out two pieces of bread, conversely surprised and unsurprised at Oscar's question. Though Dean had no problem eating his way through an entire meal on his own, he'd never do it while someone else _watched._ Especially not when they looked like they could use a good meal or two… or ten.  
  
Leaning forward, Dean poked Oscar in the side as if to say _and you,_ playfully grinning down at the kid. Whatever else happened, he could at least let Oscar enjoy a decent meal that wasn't comprised of floor crumbs, an image that made Dean wrinkle his nose.  
  
With Oscar standing close to the containers, Dean was cautious with his movements so he didn't knock the child down. On one slice of bread he slathered on the peanut butter and on the other he coated it with fluff. It was a particular favorite of Sam's, _used to be a favorite of Sam's,_ Dean corrected his inner monologue sternly, and now he bought it out of habit, though he preferred peanut butter and jelly. At least it was good eating. He was never sure what to make of Sam's delicacy of fluff and mac and cheese.  
  
Dean pinched off a corner of his sandwich when it was done, carefully flattening the edges until it looked thin enough for Oscar to hold, before offering it to the smaller kid. With any luck, Oscar would like the same kinds of food that Sam did.  
  
Between all the crying and shocked staring, Oscar's eyes were tired. He could imagine they were reddened and puffy still, so soon after his terrified wailing. Even so, they were wide yet again at the sight of the sandwich pinched in Dean's fingers. If it was up to Oscar to ration that much food out, he could make it last for _days._ Now, it was offered to him all at once.  
  
His little hands outstretched towards it, and then he paused. He looked up at Dean and offered a real smile, a grateful one that almost completely erased the stress for a blessed second. "Th-thanks, Dean!" The intensely sweet smell of the food alone was a gift.  
  
He took the overlarge portion in his hands, careful not to drop it to the table. The peanut butter and the fluff were both unknown foods to him, but it wouldn't slow him down. When food was as sparse as it was in Oscar's life, it was easy to decide to like anything that came his way. It would fill his belly just the same.  
  
He sat down right where he was, staring at the food in his hands. He nibbled at the side of the bread, and then opted to tear off a small piece with fluff and peanut butter on it. The sweet flavor almost froze him in place. It was _good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I love these two so much
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!
> 
> **Next:** February 7th, 2021


	4. Sonic the Hedgehog

Dean grinned at how well the sandwich had gone over, despite the fact it was oversized and clunky for someone so small to try and eat, and set into his own sandwich. While he chewed, he tried to surreptitiously watch Oscar, his eyes glued to the sight of those tiny hands as they clutched at the squished sandwich. He supposed it was a good thing they didn’t have jelly. The grape jelly would have soaked through the bread when Dean smushed it and made Oscar’s hands dirty. With such small hands, it might have made an effective glue to stick them together.

[Artwork by @laescritora on deviantart!](https://www.deviantart.com/laescritora/art/Just-Dorks-Being-Dorks-Commission-784349891)  
  
Compared to how big Oscar’s sandwich was, Dean’s was relatively smaller, so it was gone faster. He made himself a second, checking again to make sure Oscar had enough before biting into it. It came as second nature to check on how Oscar was doing before taking care of himself. Years of helping raise Sam had ingrained the protective instincts in Dean and after a month with them suppressed from losing his little brother, it felt natural to have a target to take care of.  
  
After spending so long with his dad and other people who expected Dean to talk and acted strangely when he didn’t, it was refreshing to have someone around who didn’t mind his silence. If only school would be the same, but Dean suspected his teacher would continue insisting on him going to therapy for his ‘problem.’ The only problem he had was losing his little brother, and they wouldn’t be able to do anything for him there. No, this was better. With Oscar around, he had someone else to focus on instead of the constant reminders of Sam.  
  
It was a lot like the time with Bobby, when he’d torn Dean away from constant weapon cleaning and drills so they could just sit around and watch movies. Dean didn’t talk that day, but he didn’t _have_ to with their old family friend. Bobby understood him better than John ever would.  
  
While Dean was lost in thought, Oscar mused that he hadn't eaten so much in one sitting for a long time. Even with his best effort to work out a portion for him, Dean had handed over a lot more food than even Oscar's hungry stomach could take all at once. As Dean neared the end of his second helping, Oscar called it quits more than halfway through his own food.  
  
After that, he sent a furtive glance up at Dean. When he thought the human was more preoccupied with his food, he opened the flap of his bag and hastily tucked his remaining food into a scrap of fabric within. The human shouldn't mind; he'd given it to Oscar, after all. He could save it, like he always saved food. He had to, in order to survive.  
  
With his food gone, Oscar got to his feet. He checked his hands to make sure they weren't dirty, and then scrubbed at his face to rid himself of the dry, crackly sensation of tears dried onto it. Having something to eat helped him feel much better about the situation. Capture by a human wasn't supposed to go so well, but here he was walking freely.  
  
On tentative steps, he wandered closer to the jar of fluff Dean left to the side. He reached out a hand to touch the smooth label on the side, brushing over little letters that spelled long words all crowded towards the bottom.  
  
He looked over at Dean. "I don't know my letters very well," he admitted. "I don't think I could _ever_ read something like this!"  
  
Dean glanced at what Oscar was trying to read, and waved his hand as though he was brushing it aside. The kid was staring at the ingredients for the container of fluff, and though Dean appreciated knowledge in any form, knowing that was what kept his father alive, he preferred _practical_ knowledge. Stuff he could use in his day to day life, like learning about the insides of the junked cars in Bobby’s scrapyard, or opportunities to read John’s journal to see what kind of monsters lurked out there.  
  
His dad wouldn’t let him read the journal very often anymore, not after they’d lost Sam, but Dean knew he’d be able to get his hands on it again in the future. He wanted to help out with hunting as soon as possible, and stop wasting his time jumping from school to school, not staying there long enough to really know what the students were studying. It always made Dean seem like he was behind, because every school's curriculum was different. It didn’t matter that he was just as smart as anyone else in class.  
  
The ingredients for fluff, stuff like vanillin and corn syrup, wouldn’t do Oscar much good. Dean opted to reach for the container to turn it around in place, taking the last bite of his sandwich at the same time. He gestured at the main label and tapped the bubbly graphic of the word _Fluff_ for Oscar to read.  
  
Oscar flinched, his arms raising up in front to guard himself, but then stood still until he was certain Dean's hand wasn't going to move things around again. He definitely wasn't used to seeing a hand come his way, friendly or not, and he doubted he would overcome the instinctive nervousness anytime soon. He had those instincts for a reason. Not all humans would be as nice as Dean had been.  
  
The letters Dean pointed out for him were much larger, and brighter. He tentatively reached out to tap each one while he put them all together. "Fluff," he read aloud, much more confident than he'd been when reading Dean's name. There weren't any tricky vowels this time around.  
  
He looked up to gauge how tall the container was. On his tiptoes, Oscar still couldn't reach the lid, and he stepped back with a disappointed huff. "Too little," he mumbled, before stumbling to a seat again.  
  
He only had a second to enjoy his seat before two fingers pinched the back of his shirt and hauled him into the air. Dean had a mischievous glint in his eye as he lifted Oscar up, inwardly surprised at how little resistance there was to him moving the kid around. The little guy hardly weighed a thing, and he merely squeaked like a mouse and curled around that tiny bag of his.  
  
Oscar wasn’t left dangling in midair for more than a few seconds. Dean let him gently down on the top of the container of fluff, leaving the kid only a few inches under Dean’s eye level as he pointedly cocked an eyebrow at Oscar. _Now_ he wasn't too little to reach the top.  
  
Oscar shakily lowered himself to his knees after the brief move up to the top of the jar. Dean plucking him up hadn't done any damage at all, no matter how much it had startled him. He put his hands on the edge of the lid to peer over the side at the table below, before sitting back from it. He was definitely up higher than he'd ever reach from standing on his tiptoes, even after he was done growing.  
  
Up there, he couldn't help but feel even more exposed than before. The room would always be too big for him, and Oscar wasn't used to staying in the open for this long. Now, he was up on a platform, as though on display. "What do humans do now? Do you have chores?" he asked in a voice only slightly higher pitched than his usual, to take his mind off of things and fill the silence between him and the strange, quiet human.  
  
Dean’s lips thinned to a line, knowing he very much _did_ have stuff to do, and if Sam was around he wouldn’t be able to get away with putting it off for so long. The first day of school came with plenty of homework, and the most Dean planned on doing with it was pretending it didn’t exist.  
  
There was a hole in his chest at that thought. Sam would want him to do his work, and would insist on badgering him until it was rebelliously done just to shut him up. Dean sighed, and shook his head at Oscar. There was no need to tell the kid what he had to do.  
  
Maybe Dean would work on it before bed. For Sam.  
  
In the meantime, Dean could at least think of something to do with Oscar. He scooped the kid up into a hand, eliciting another little squeak, and brought him over to the bed. Letting Oscar slide out of his hand onto the foot of the bed, Dean kicked off his boots and then placed them carefully against the dresser. While he did, Oscar lost his balance on the bedcovers and plopped right down.  
  
Normally, Dean might just toss the boots across the room, but now, he had a kid smaller than his pinkie around and no way of knowing if there were any other people that small nearby. Dean didn’t want to make a mistake that got someone hurt.  
  
Once he was in his socks, Dean bounced onto the bed behind Oscar, grabbing the remote and stretching out so his feet were resting on the pillows and Dean was facing the television as it snapped on.  
  
It was Oscar's first time up on one of the beds, and so far he hadn't had an easy time. It was softer than anything, except maybe his own nest of blankets in his small home, and he couldn't keep his footing.  
  
Dean _bouncing_ onto the bed hadn't helped him.  
  
Oscar had flown up at least a few inches, kicking and flailing his arms. He doubted Dean even noticed the jump while he shifted around, settling his huge body into place. Oscar, by contrast, noticed everything in a too-rapid kaleidoscope. He bounced once more when he returned to the surface of the bed before settling. By the time the movement stopped, he was curled up to protect himself from more jumps that never came.  
  
Sound from the TV drew his attention yet again, and Oscar bolted upright, his little chest heaving. The edge of the bed was a cliff several inches in front of him and nearby was someone almost twenty times his size. He hugged himself and looked down at the faded color of the bedcovers. "Th-that was really fast," he said, hoping it wouldn't upset Dean.  
  
A look of surprise passed over Dean’s face, and he realized how _nervous_ Oscar looked again. He hadn’t _meant_ to make the kid nervous or afraid. He just wanted to relax on the bed and watch some television with his new friend.  
  
Dean rested his head on his crossed arms, trying to put himself as close to Oscar’s level as he could. It didn’t do him much good. Oscar was just that much smaller. And _afraid_.  
  
Dean didn’t want to scare a kid like that. Even if he _had_ found Oscar sneaking around in his room, he couldn’t imagine the child being a danger to anyone, and his protective instincts-- so long in hibernation after losing Sam-- were slowly attaching themselves to Oscar as he realized more and more how outmatched the kid was compared to _everything_ around him. Including Dean.  
  
Hesitant, worried that he'd just make things worse like he usually did, Dean extended his hand towards Oscar. He didn’t pick the little guy up again, but simply held out a finger in mute apology a few centimeters away from Oscar in the hopes that he’d understand it was all just a mistake.  
  
Oscar saw the hand's approach in his peripheral vision, and everything in his body primed to be scooped up again. When that didn't happen, he looked over, surprised to see Dean's hand simply waiting there, one fingertip outstretched. His gaze trailed up to meet Dean's remorseful look, and he realized more or less what his silent human companion was trying to convey.  
  
He uncurled from his startled huddle and scooted carefully closer to the hand. Then, Oscar reached out with his own hands to cautiously place them on the fingertip.  
  
A lot of things frightened Oscar. It was ingrained in his nature, and made worse by the last year on his own. Dean had clearly done his best not be scary, but he couldn't help his size or the fact that Oscar had been taught to fear him from an early age. Oscar couldn’t afford _not_ to be frightened by humans.  
  
"I get scared a lot," he said, staring at the way his hands couldn't cover one fingertip, even with his own fingers spread as far as they would go. "A-an' I never came up on the beds before. I'm not very brave..."  
  
Dean wondered if things would ever stop catching him by surprise with Oscar, but considering the kid was smaller than his pinkie and by all rights shouldn’t _exist,_ he supposed not. Oscar was in the room of a giant, and had said he was trying to find food before Dean caught him. That, by itself, was brave in Dean’s estimation. He couldn’t imagine what things looked like from Oscar’s point of view.  
  
Letting his hand relax where it was placed next to Oscar, Dean slumped down in the bed. He wanted the kid to feel safe around him. Though Dean was still curious if Oscar had anyone else out there to watch out for him, he was resigned to no answers to that so long as he couldn’t bring himself to talk.  
  
Though… his chest didn’t feel as tight as it had earlier on in the day when he first got in. Some of the tension had gone with finding someone that needed help. Dean was doing what he’d always done, though not in the way he’d expected to.  
  
Dean lightly nudged Oscar’s hand, trying not to put too much pressure on the little kid, and nodded at the television where a blue hedgehog was darting around. Maybe Oscar would like _Sonic the Hedgehog_ as much as Sam had.  
  
Oscar took his hands back to absently fidget with the strap of his bag while he looked at the TV. He'd never really had much chance or reason to try to watch the huge devices that every room had. They always filled the rooms with light and noise, and were helpful distractions for the humans when Oscar needed to creep through the vents. Oftentimes the volume alone was enough to scare him off.  
  
He was captivated anyway. He hardly understood what the creatures on the screen were supposed to be, but it was fun to watch the bright colors in motion. He settled down on his own patch of the covers near Dean's relaxed hand to watch.  
  
Watching TV. With a _human._ Oscar doubted his mom ever would have predicted this.  
  
Dean’s eyes partially glazed over to the sight of Sonic flashing around during his latest attempts to thwart Dr. Robotnik’s maniacal plans. His mind wasn’t on the show, but instead on the kid sitting down on the comforter with him. Not long ago Dean would have laughed at the thought of tiny children that fit in the palm of his hand running around rundown motel rooms.  
  
Now, his eyes flicked over to Oscar every so often, curiously scanning the little guy to reaffirm he was actually there. His clothing and cloth bag were worn, and they didn’t much look like they’d come from a dollhouse. Cloth strips made up Oscar’s equivalent of shoes, cushioning his little feet.  
  
Maybe one day Dean would be able to ask Oscar the thousand questions he had on his mind, but for now he was content to lay there and watch the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's trying so hard here
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!
> 
> **Next:** February 10th, 2021


	5. Oscar and the Strange, Silent Human

Oscar watched the screen with fascination, and though he had several questions of his own, he kept them to himself. Dean didn't speak, so he wouldn't be able to give Oscar the answers he was after. He had a feeling that there was a lot more than he even realized he was missing, so it worked out. He could watch and be confused and still enjoy the bright colors and cheerful music.  
  
The cartoons halted and were replaced by footage of actual human kids playing with whatever the announcer loudly talked about. Oscar's brow furrowed from the noise, but he quickly became distracted from the advertisement. He almost never had time to play, so he almost didn't recognize what someone else looked like doing it.  
  
Instead, he looked around himself, and his gaze lingered on the huge form of the nearby human. Somehow, he wasn't trapped or hurt, despite such a big person having him within reach. "They kept sayin' Sonic's really fast," he suddenly said, pointing vaguely at the screen. "I dunno what he is, but I know humans are really fast. Probably faster," he determined, unsure of why exactly he was saying it out loud.  
  
Dean had to grin at that, but he shook his head and pointed at the screen. Sonic was _definitely_ faster. Dean couldn’t imagine running fast enough to not fall if he went upside down. Not even a _car_ could go fast enough to drive on the ceiling.  
  
For a moment, he lost himself in imagining the Impala like the car in MIB and driving along the top of a tunnel, over all the other cars. They wouldn’t have to worry about traffic like that for sure, though Dean knew there were very few tunnels or roads with ceilings over them. Though it would be useful for sure, Dean could also see someone ending up like Will Smith had and tumbling around the car interior without a seatbelt on.  
  
"But humans are always going, going, going," Oscar argued, despite having no actual _words_ to argue with. To make his point, he gestured to the bathroom door and then swept his hand across to indicate the exit to the outdoors, as quick a motion as he could make with his tiny arm. That distance, to him, was a trek of several minutes. "Humans go like that so fast."  
  
He watched the screen as Sonic ran along a wall. Oscar at least knew enough to recognize that it wasn't possible for anyone to do that, but it didn't change his thoughts much. Compared to him, humans were fast indeed. "That's why I gotta hide."  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. Walking across a room was hardly what he’d classify as _fast._ If he could show Oscar how fast the cars that roared by outside went, he’d have more weight in his argument.  
  
For a moment, Dean toyed with the idea of pulling the curtain open to let Oscar see the road, but ended up opting to stay on the bed so he didn’t startle Oscar all over again. Now that the kid was opening up a little, Dean didn’t want to go ruining it. The cars would be passing by on the road later on.  
  
Dean lightly pinched Oscar’s arm with the hand he had resting close by to hold his attention, giving the kid an earnest look before letting go. _You don’t have to hide in here,_ he wanted to say, but despite the fact that the knot in his chest wasn’t as thick as it had been for the last month, Dean still couldn’t bring himself to talk out loud.  
  
Oscar rubbed at his arm absently and tilted his head. He didn't understand Dean's meaning at first, and hesitated to make any assumptions. He hardly knew what a human who talked would say, so trying to figure out what Dean might tell him was hard. Whatever it was, it was earnest. Dean's expressions were as intense as ever.  
  
In the end, he tried to answer what he thought Dean might be trying to convey. "Well, I'm not hiding now 'cause you caught me," he said cautiously, heat rising to his cheeks as he remembered the ordeal. It happened so fast. From waking up so late to sneaking out to the rooms, Oscar’s normal routine had taken a sharp left turn, and he was on unfamiliar paths.  
  
If he was honest with himself, he was still a little scared of the idea of his own capture. Dean was proving to be a nice and gentle human, but if he wasn't, Oscar would be in such trouble by now. He could be huddled and terrified in a cage, or trapped in a fist while a human yelled at him for stealing. He could be _dead._  
  
He rubbed at his eyes and sighed. It was a confusing bunch of emotions for one small child to hold all at once. "I thought humans didn't like having someone sneak around their rooms..."  
  
Dean shrugged, almost to himself. He saw how much his motion moved the bed under Oscar, and tried to move with more care. It was _hard_. He’d never noticed how much the bed could bounce for such small motions. Oscar putting his little arms out for balance drove the point home.  
  
Truthfully, if Sam was still around, Dean might not have taken such an intrusion so lightly. It was harder to care about things like that now. He went through the motions just like always. Gun under his pillow, knife in his jacket. Salt lines by every entrance to the room and even the window. Yet if something came for Dean, it didn’t seem to matter as much now. He’d failed Sam.  
  
Dean leaned his chin on the bed, staring back at Oscar and wondering if he should try and find a better way to communicate. Yes and no questions could only go so far, after all. Eventually they’d need a better way to talk. Maybe he’d try and see how good Oscar was with writing. That would be an easy substitute. Dean could just use his school notebook. He let out a heartfelt sigh, feeling like he was letting down _another_ kid because he couldn’t talk.  
  
Oscar smiled faintly, only slight amusement in the expression overshadowed by relief. He was lucky that Dean didn't get mad at him for sneaking around. He might be a human, and a decently tall one for a kid, but he was one of the best case scenarios there could be.  
  
Even though Dean was silent, and Oscar was used to being quiet as well, something about their strange dynamic prompted Oscar to talk sooner than he might have. There was no loud voice to overpower his own timid one, and it gave him a decent start with the human even with his crying earlier. He had a chance to take his own initiative rather than let things happen to him.  
  
He pushed himself carefully to his feet, and found a wobbly balance on the cover of the bed. He had to watch his feet as he walked around, tracing the square pattern stitched into the blanket. "I could never come up here before," he said, wandering around the side of Dean's hand. "I guess it's nice not to have to hide, just this time." He paused to catch his balance, tiny hands planted on Dean's finger to brace himself.  
  
Dean lifted his hand slightly up in the air to offer Oscar a railing for walking on the bed, and tilted it so it was flat. It was amusing to watch how much Oscar wobbled. Kinda like trying to walk on a trampoline. If Dean or Sam jumped on the bed, they might get yelled at for making too much noise, but Oscar was small enough that it wouldn’t matter. The people in the other motel rooms would never be able to hear him.  
  
Oscar watched Dean's hand with wide eyes, reminded again of how powerful the human was. He ducked down to peer underneath it at the space Dean had created, and then he stood up on the tips of his toes to look over the top again. "Your hand is like the size of my bed," he pointed out.  
  
He inched further along, using Dean's hand as a guiderail until he reached the thumb. Then, he let go to attempt walking around it without any help, already getting used to the weird surface.  
  
Dean smiled as he watched Oscar wobble along, endeared by the child’s antics as he gained confidence walking along the plushy surface. The bed gave Oscar plenty of room to practice, and the edge was far enough off so the kid didn’t have to worry about stumbling and falling. There was enough space that if that looked like it was going to happen, Dean would be able to catch him first.  
  
Before moving his hand back to rest, Dean brushed a finger over Oscar’s poof of hair, a glint of amusement in his eyes at how messy the hair got as he scattered the tiny strands. The hair was so fine that it felt soft to the touch. From the looks of things, Oscar hadn’t tended to the length of his hair in a long time.  
  
"Hey!" Oscar protested, his hands reaching up to shove at Dean's hand well after it had already left him alone. Instead, he brushed at his hair as if he might fix the untamed poof. He fell to a seat as he did so, and sighed, a short huff of a sound. "I found part of a comb once. I carried it home all by myself."  
  
The thought drew his gaze to the wall, where his vent led safely home. He couldn't see past Dean's arm, but he knew it was there. "I, um," he began, suddenly unsure if he should say anything at all.  
  
Dean arched his eyebrows, equal parts intrigued and curious about what Oscar had said. Where would a kid small enough to fit in the palm of his hand live? Did he have a family? Could someone Oscar’s size even _survive_ without someone looking out for him?  
  
All the questions Dean had from before came roaring back to the forefront of his mind, and he gave Oscar an expectant look, trying to encourage him to go on. He wanted to know more about his strange, small discovery, and was hindered by the way his words locked inside his chest and refused to move past the threshold of his mouth. If only he could get past that hindrance, he could ask.  
  
But every time he tried, he just remembered Sam vanishing, and John snipping at him day after day.  
  
 _Dad says I have to be a better hunter. He says if I don’t stay sharp I’m asking to die. Just like Sammy._  
  
Because of that, Dean would spend almost every waking hour disassembling his weapons and reassembling them. Shooting at targets, working on cars to sharpen his skills. This new motel had given him a short break from all that, and a new puzzle to unravel that was smaller than his pinkie and vulnerable. Dean tried to erase any trace of his thoughts on his face, wanting the small kid to be at ease with him so he could open up.  
  
Oscar could read this expression better, though he remained sheepish. He felt like he'd done well so far, considering his first encounter with a human had begun with so much terror. Dean was so much bigger than him, and could seize control of the situation and Oscar at any moment if he wanted to. That was enough on its own to make him nervous.  
  
He never thought he'd meet a human that _didn't_ want to do that. It was a pleasant kind of confusion.  
  
Dean’s question needed to be addressed. "I still gotta go home and do my chores," he finally admitted, staring at his feet. He worried the news might upset or sadden the human, and he didn't want to do either. Even so, his routine was one of the few things he had left to cling to.  
  
He looked up when another thought came to him. "M-maybe ... if I go home, um, can I come and visit tomorrow?" The thought of another meal the following day like the one he'd had here had him hopeful already despite the fear that came with coming out into the rooms. The rooms were dangerous, only to be visited when necessity dictated it. He could overcome the feeling with time, if it came with food like that. He didn’t have enough food at home to skip a trip for supplies anyway.  
  
Dean was caught off guard when Oscar finally came out and said it. Chores was a foreign word to the teenager. In all his years, his father had doled out assignments and lessons that Dean was expected to do without question. _Chores_ were what families who had real homes had to deal with. Houses with backyards and dogs to walk and dishes to clean. Though Dean supposed making dinner for himself and Sam could be considered a chore. For him it was simply a part of his life.  
  
Realizing there might be people worrying about Oscar, for it was hard to imagine such a young kid completely on his own, Dean nodded. He’d like to see Oscar visit again, if only to know that the young child was safe.  
  
Letting such a vulnerable little guy leave was hard to contemplate, but Dean didn’t want to be the cause of another family splitting. He’d had enough of that with his own. So, he held out his hand and flattened it to offer Oscar a ride back to his home, wherever that was.  
  
Oscar stared at the offered hand curiously. At first, he didn't understand why Dean had set it that way, palm facing the faraway ceiling. Ever since he met the human, he'd been grabbed up to move anywhere in the room. He wasn't used to the sight before him.  
  
He realized it with a jolt and couldn't help but grin. "Well, you won't be able to carry me all the way to my house," he warned. The idea filled his mind's eye with the image of a human trying to get into the vents, and he couldn't decide if it was a scary or a funny thought. Dean might be able to fit his head or an arm into the ventilation system, but no more than that.  
  
He inched towards Dean's hand anyway, and took the hesitant first step onto it. He tripped on the second step and fell on his front on the huge palm. "Oh, no," he mumbled to himself, face red with embarrassment. Walking onto a hand gave him more trouble than walking off of one.  
  
Dean had to withhold a snort of laughter at the sight of how flustered Oscar was. With a huge, shit-eating grin on his face, he pinched the back of Oscar's shirt and hauled the kid to the center of his palm, where he could safely sit in the divot and not worry about tumbling off the edge. Feeling like that wasn’t quite enough, Dean brought his other hand up and used it to guard the edge as images of falling children filled his mind.  
  
Keeping his hands cupped close to his chest, Dean somehow managed to stand up from the bed, mostly by letting himself slide off the edge to catch his feet under him. He couldn’t help stretching his back after he stood, getting a good crack out of it. He didn’t take his eyes off Oscar the entire time, making sure the kid stayed safe in the center, and waiting for a sign of where he should take him. Dean had no idea where a kid that small would live.  
  
Oscar was curled into himself, braced against the movements with more caution than fear since the last time Dean saw him that way. He didn’t want to fall any more than Dean wanted to let him. Once they were steadier, Oscar looked up at the fingers cupped safely around him. He could still feel the slight sway and pulse of his position, sensations Dean probably didn't even notice at all.  
  
He crawled to Dean's free hand to pull himself up and look over the side. Past the railing created by Dean's fingers, Oscar could scan the room. Before he could even stop to consider just what he was doing, he pointed at his vent and looked over his shoulder at Dean to see if he was watching. "That's my door," he said, only realizing after that that he was giving someone 20 times his size an idea of how he traveled around.  
  
Dean cocked an eyebrow at the gesture, giving the vent an appraising look. He glanced at Oscar again to make sure he was understanding the kid right, then took a few steps forward. _Door_ was the last thing he’d ever call a wall vent. If Dean took the metal plating off the wall, it _might_ be big enough for Sam to squirm into. _If he was here,_ Dean thought sadly.  
  
Kneeling down, he brushed a hand over the metal slits, trying to peer into the darkness beyond. He gave Oscar a dubious glance, his free hand entwined in the vent and his fingers fitting partially into the wall.  
  
Oscar, waiting on Dean's other hand, almost had to stare straight up to meet that skeptical gaze. He tilted his head and then looked back at the vent, trying to deduce what Dean was skeptical _of._  
  
"I can fit between the spaces," he said confidently. He didn't use the vents to get into every room in his radius, but he preferred when he could. They were easiest. "I don't live in the _vent,_ 'cause I'd get cold, though."  
  
Dean huffed, but since he didn’t see anything immediately dangerous about the vent, he couldn’t reason keeping Oscar in the room against his will. Little kids shouldn’t be kept from their families for any reason, even really _small_ little kids. Though Dean did hope to one day find out if Oscar’s only way to get food for himself was by sneaking into rooms like this one.  
  
He dropped his hand down and held it flat against the floor, a somewhat forlorn look in his eyes as he realized that once again, he’d be left with his own thoughts, and his mind was rarely kind during the night. Dean would often spend the small hours of the night berating himself and trying to think of what he could have done differently. A thousand ways that night could have gone, and maybe in one of them Sam would still be alive. He’d love to meet someone like Oscar, that was for sure.  
  
Before Oscar could step down from his hand, Dean curled his thumb inwards and brushed a small shoulder, hoping to see the other kid again so he knew he was okay.  
  
Oscar swayed from the contact, watching a thumb bigger than his whole body moving in what must be a very measured way for Dean. It struck him all over again that he'd walked onto a gigantic hand, and knew for a fact that it would have no issue closing around him. It could squish him like a bug, but Oscar actually believed that wouldn't happen. A lot of things still frightened him, but that at least was not one of them. Dean, a tall and enigmatic human that had all the power, was letting him go again.  
  
He placed a hand atop Dean's thumbnail as it retreated, noting the thickness of it; his own were like nothing in comparison. He patted the smooth surface to return the gesture in his own way, a sort of goodbye greeting.  
  
"I'll visit tomorrow," he said as he hopped down from the hand. Already he looked forward to more food. "M-maybe I'll even get some of my chores done before I come!" And with his optimistic prediction, he slipped into the vent, looking back once before hurrying out of sight.  
  
Dean leaned as far in as he could to peer after Oscar, knocking his head against the vent with a wince. It was too dark inside the vents to make out the tiny kid’s form, but he could hear the light footsteps as they vanished into the depths of the motel.  
  
He carefully unwound his fingers from the grate, and leaned back with a thoughtful sigh. Against all reason, tiny people _existed._ Dean wondered if his father had ever run into them. If he had, it never made it into the journal. Dean would remember reading a detail like that.  
  
He remained thoughtful as he went over to the table. The memory of Sam nudging him to keep up with his homework compelled Dean to dig out the sheets the teachers handed out at the end of class, and he quickly filled in the answers. It wasn’t hard work, just some simple math equations that the rest of the class made too big of a deal over, and it was only ten minutes before Dean was shoving the sheet into his backpack again.  
  
The beds in the motel room were worn and run down, but Dean didn’t let that bother him as he collapsed facedown on one. It was the closest bed to the door, the one that Dean always claimed for himself. It put him between Sam and any threats, and as he caught sight of the empty bed next to him, tears threatened his countenance.  
  
Dean pointedly turned away from the second bed, staring blankly at the window shades and watching the lights from cars in the parking lot pass by for hours before he was able to drift off.  
  


* * *

  
When Oscar finally made it to his little home in the walls and pushed his door shut, he sank to the floor in a heap. His heart was pounding again and he hid his face while he let his mind catch up to what had happened. The low lighting in the cramped main room of his home couldn't offer a distraction, and he was alone in his thoughts like usual.  
  
He'd been caught, by a _human._ A younger human, which his mom used to tell him was twice as dangerous. Younger humans were more likely to decide he was a pet or a toy, while an older human had a greater chance of trying to shoo him away as a pest.  
  
Under no circumstances was he to let himself get caught in a hand, but he couldn't have stopped Dean if he tried. He was too small, and Dean was too fast, too agile.  
  
And yet, Oscar was home. He had made it home without struggling or fighting, he hadn't even had to worry about Dean chasing him. A human that let people go was entirely outside Oscar's knowledge. He picked himself wearily up off the floor and brushed dust off of himself. He wasn't about to question his phenomenal luck. He didn't have anyone around to ask _why_ it had happened that way.  
  
He took his bag to his small pantry, covered by a tattered curtain. There, he reverently placed the food he'd saved earlier on one of the lower shelves, still wrapped carefully in its scrap of cloth. The sweet smell tickled at his awareness, and a surge of gratitude sparked through his being. His belly was full for once.  
  
Once that was done, Oscar trudged to the ringbox that he used as a comfortable chair and flopped into it. The foam base and fake silky covering was welcoming after his stress, and he picked up his latest sewing work. He had made his own shirt once, all without his mom to help him, and now he was working on a new pair of pants.  
  
Oscar was slow, still practicing the motions. His mom had gone before she could teach him all her tricks, but he had to keep working. He had to keep going. He stuck his tongue out for concentration while he worked, thinking about the full meal in his belly and imagining more.  
  
Scared or not, he would have to go back again and see Dean, the strange, silent human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Oscar ever saw his Dean compared to Dean normally, he might not recognize him!
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!! 
> 
> **Next:** February 14th, 2021


	6. Not a Hallucination

The next day of school passed by in much the same fashion for Dean Winchester.

Though his teacher’s eyebrows went up in surprise as she saw his clear and concise answers for the homework, she continued to encourage him to go to counseling after classes were over and wrote a note for him to take. Dean crumpled that and tossed it in the waste bin before he stalked out, following the rest of the class to the cafeteria.

The food on his plate, so plain and uninteresting, reminded him of the tiny child he’d found the night before. Dean found himself wondering if maybe he _had_ gone crazy, and conjured up the entire night. Kids that could fit in the palm of his hand, hiding under his bed? Maybe he’d hit his head when he jumped on the bed after school.

But still, he remembered how worried Oscar sounded about trying to sneak food from the room. A kid that size needed to eat good. Oscar looked like he hadn’t had a good meal in _months._ His tiny arms and legs were bony and he was too thin to be healthy.

Real or not, Dean was determined to help him out as much as he could. He knew that Sam would want that.

Skipping out on the therapy session, Dean stalked back to the motel, through the park that was near where he was staying. He avoided any other students, hating their concerned faces and pitying glances.

At least in the motel room, he wouldn’t have to see their pity.

Dean opened the door with more care than the day before, peeking at the ground before he came in and let his backpack drop next to the table. If he hadn’t imagined Oscar, he didn’t want to risk missing the little kid when he came back to visit.

* * *

  
The following day, Oscar slept a lot longer than he was used to. More light was leaking into his home, and while he cleaned up dust he wondered if the terror and all the crying had worn him out more than he realized. He swept at one spot on his floor for almost ten seconds straight while thoughts overwhelmed him.

Dean, a human, a _tall_ one, had captured him with ease. Then, instead of keeping him trapped or demanding answers from him, he’d given him food. Let him walk around on one of the big beds.

He’d let Oscar leave at the end of the day. Oscar didn’t know what it meant, except that he was very lucky. Today, he wanted to get his chores done before he went so they wouldn’t weigh on his mind when he tried to visit again.

Oscar had done his chores every day ever since he realized he was on his own. No one was there to tell him to do them, but he knew she would, so he did the work without complaint. He even did his sewing early, making more careful progress on his new pants with the tiny sewing needles and thread that he'd dethreaded by himself. He wondered if a human would even be able to see his sewing needles.

The afternoon wore on, and though Oscar wasn't very good at telling time yet, he guessed that he could go back to that room and see if Dean was back. At least this time he hopefully wouldn't be under the bed when a human collapsed onto it; friendly or not, that was loud and scary. Like the world was shaking apart around him.

He made his way through the walls until he found his small entrance into the air ducts, and from there he had a straight shot to the vent where he'd last seen the strange, quiet human. The light from the room gave him pause, and he had to stop to take a shaky breath before creeping up to the opening and peeking out across the room.

His heart pounded and he wondered to himself what he was _doing,_ but the memory of a full belly of food kept him right where he was, and he leaned just a little farther out, listening for signs that Dean was already back.

With the television turned off, the room was quiet. Dean, learning the same hunter instincts that his father and Bobby took for granted, was listening to every sound he could hear. Dean wasn’t quite on the same level as a hunter, but he _was_ able to pick out sounds that didn’t fit into normal motel comings and goings.

Which was how he could recognize the light footsteps from the night before, when Oscar had left the room. Dean perked up, sidling around the table to peer down at the vent against the wall. If Oscar was back, he hadn’t imagined things the night before.

Oscar found Dean at the table, his eyes wide and cautious. He could still turn back and scurry away into the air ducts where a human couldn't easily reach him. Dean was a lot bigger and stronger than Oscar, but he couldn't fit to follow after him.

He took a slow breath and pushed those thoughts aside. Dean had let him go the day before. He wouldn't go back on that now. Oscar slipped through the narrow space in the vent and stepped cautiously into the room.

He almost immediately tripped on the line of salt that he hadn't expected to step in. Oscar stumbled over it, scattering the white cubes, and stared at the salt in confusion before looking up to see if Dean had noticed his graceless entrance.

Dean managed to hide any surprise that tried to find its way onto his face. Part of him hadn’t expected Oscar to ever return even if he _was_ real. He wondered vaguely if Oscar had told his family where he was going for the day, and if they knew he was going off to see a ‘giant’-- though Dean had a hard time imagining what it was like to be so small, he had no doubt that his dad would never let him near a giant like that. They’d be trying to hunt it, if anything. Not visit.

None of that mattered now that Oscar was in the room. Dean grinned at how shocked Oscar was to find salt lines by his vent, and was reassured by the way the lines didn’t affect the small child at all. Spirits and demons couldn’t cross lines like that, and spirits would be dispersed by a touch.

Dean didn’t want to leave his new friend sitting in a pile of salt grains, so he quickly made his way over to the vent and reached out to scoop the little guy out of the pile.

The shaking in the floor from Dean's rapid approach drew Oscar's attention, so he was staring at his feet when the hand reached him. He curled up instinctively, a startle reflex that helped him to brace against the rapid motion of shooting up into the air. The few grains of salt that stuck to his cloth-wrapped feet tumbled away and he squirmed to find a good grip on one of Dean's fingers. He clung to it until the motion stopped.

"H-hi, Dean," he greeted, dazed and still clinging. "That's a lotta salt ..."

Dean nodded in reply, gesturing with his free hand towards the door and the huge windows that had the shades drawn over them. Lines just as thick ringed them, and there was a clear bootprint in the line by the door from Dean coming into the room.

Once he felt his point was made, he curled his fingers closer to Oscar and made his way back to the table with quick steps. It wasn’t safe to have the little guy down on the floor, so Dean held his hand out to let him down onto the wooden surface of the table, flattening his hand so Oscar could simply step down while Dean eyed up the refrigerator in the room along with the rest of the food he’d stocked up on at the quik shop.

Oscar uncurled himself and scooted to the edge of Dean's hand so he could stumble to the table. Once again, he found himself up there when he normally wouldn't have come up on his own. At least it kept him away from the scary perspective of seeing a human from all the way on the floor. Dean still towered over him, but his height was easier to take from the safe higher ground. Oscar wouldn’t get _stepped_ on from up there.

"I did my chores today," he announced with some pride. Today, at least, he wouldn't have to hurry home before he got too tired to finish his work. He could focus instead on figuring out his odd human. "I didn't notice the salt yesterday, 'cause I stay away from the door," he admitted. Then, he wondered how he could ask about it without leaving the mute teen no way to answer, and his mouth twisted into a thoughtful frown.

Dean rolled his eyes at Oscar’s insistence on ‘chores,’ a grin on his face the entire time at how determined the little kid was to do them. He couldn’t help but swipe a finger over Oscar’s hair to mess up the way it lay flat, and turned it back into a tiny poof.

Now that Oscar was around again, Dean’s stomach insisted on dinner, and today he wanted more than just a peanut butter and fluff sandwich. Though his mind toyed with the idea of running to the Gas ‘n Sip near the motel, Dean didn’t want to leave Oscar on his own in the room (how _did_ he survive at that size, anyway?), and dug into the mini-fridge.

He’d at least thought ahead this far when stocking up the room initially. Since Dean’s ability to order room service or a pizza over the phone was severely hampered by his body’s refusal to let him talk, he’d bought a decent supply of lunch meats and food he could use the microwave to heat up. Though some motels had larger kitchenettes that also included small stoves and cookware Dean had used in the past, this one was sparse and only offered a microwave, mini-fridge and a coffee pot.

With his hands full of lunch meat and all the fixins he could fit in the tiny fridge, Dean took the seat across from where Oscar was standing and spread the packages across his place. He snagged the bread from where it was sitting next to the coffee pot, and started to dig through the bags, deciding on a turkey and ham meal for himself and Oscar, and he tore off part of the bread to give constructing a tiny sandwich for Oscar another try.

Oscar's jaw dropped at the sight of so many varieties of food arrayed across the table from him. If other guests ever kept that much stuff around to use, Oscar had never seen it before. He didn't spend much time in the rooms normally, because it was so dangerous for him. He and Dean were like-minded in that regard, at least; Oscar didn't like being by himself in the cavernous motel rooms any more than he had to be.

He "had to be" there almost every day, anyway. He was familiar with the sight of it all from the floor, and only occasionally from the table or dresser. While he inched closer to Dean's setup, he found himself looking across the room at everything. Even the towering beds didn't look so imposing from there.

"That's a _lot_ of food, Dean!" he announced, his excitement for the fact easily noted in his tone. There would be enough for even Dean to have a feast, and he needed a lot more food than Oscar did. Oscar grinned hopefully. "Is it as good as the, um. The 'fluff'?"

Dean grinned, and if he’d thought it would be easier to try making Oscar a sandwich with only _some_ of the ingredients, that thought was gone now. He wiggled his eyebrows to try and convey that this was _better_ than the fluff, and set to it.

His own sandwich was pretty simple to put together compared to the tiny one sitting next to it, but Dean was nothing if not a stubborn son of a bitch, as he’d overheard Bobby call him and John a few times before. Dean set aside his simple sandwich and focused on Oscar’s, the novelty of making a tiny little sandwich fit some of all the food he had in front of him making it a welcome challenge.

Turkey, ham, swiss cheese and american cheese were the major foods, but Dean also cut a tiny piece of tomato and a shred of lettuce to sneak in between the different layers. The bread looked oddly thick, so he squished it down a little before putting a drop of mayo in the middle and judged the sandwich good enough to eat. It wouldn’t even be a bite for Dean, but it was huge next to Oscar as Dean held it out.

Oscar's eyes were wide yet again and he stared in awe at the sandwich Dean held out for him. There was so much food there, and a lot of it was varied. Oscar was certain he'd never had so many different kinds of food all at once, and he'd never had something so fresh, either. Any vegetables his mother had managed to bring back from a room or from a daring raid of the kitchen had always been sitting out for a while.

He took it carefully in his hands, almost reverently holding the sandwich up to count its layers. It would be hard for him to eat it like normal, but Oscar didn't mind in the least. Even if he had to take it apart, he was impressed by the effort Dean had made to build him a mimic of his own sandwich.

"It looks really good," he praised, taking his first nibble at some turkey sticking out of the side. He plopped down to a seat, pleased with the flavor and with his choice to come back. "You have good food every day!" he said with a grin.

Dean practically beamed at Oscar’s compliments, surprised how good it felt to have someone talking to him that didn’t have an ulterior motive beyond the sandwich. It always felt like John was silently judging him, the teachers found him lacking and the other students in school found him odd or awkward. Fitting in was a lot harder without Sam to look out for.

With Oscar, he didn’t have to worry about that. Dean nodded in agreement, then picked up his own sandwich to dig right in. There was plenty of meat and cheese to make it a filling meal, and he contemplated making another one to take to school the next day. It would be better than whatever the cafeteria served up and claimed was ‘good,’ that was certain.

While he ate, Dean watched Oscar with innocent curiosity, bemused by the sight of the tiny hands that tried to wrap all the way around the oversized sandwich. So maybe he had to work on his portion control, but at least Oscar wasn’t complaining. Dean figured too _much_ food was better than too little, especially with how thin Oscar was.

They fell into an easy silence yet again, made more comfortable by the lack of terror on Oscar's part. He'd volunteered to be there, and so the thought of sitting among several food containers that would fit him several times over didn't unsettle him. He only glanced down once or twice when a movement from Dean sent tiny vibrations through the table. It was unavoidable; Dean was huge and the table was cheap.

 _That,_ more than anything else, was hard to get used to. At least it didn't mean danger approached him. It meant there was one human nearby who tried _not_ to be a danger.

Like the night before, Oscar ended up with more food than he had room for in his tiny stomach. Not for lack of trying, he had to give up on the last third of his sandwich, and he surreptitiously opened up his bag. Extra scraps of cloth waited, and he tucked away the leftovers as quickly as he could to avoid notice.

This time, though, Dean couldn’t help but watch Oscar slip the food into the tiny bag he had. It was worn and clearly well-loved, a lot like Dean’s duffel bag, stuffed full of his clothing. He leaned in curiously as Oscar used little scraps of cloth to wrap the food, already prepared for the leftovers.

When Oscar was finished with his bag, Dean reached a hand forward and nudged the side of the tiny bag with a curious finger, wondering what else Oscar might have in there. He couldn’t imagine the kid could _fit_ too much stuff in there.

Oscar flinched, let out a squeak of surprise and clutched his bag close, looking up at Dean with reddening cheeks. If he'd known he was being watched, he might not have put the food in his bag. Luckily for him, Dean didn't look annoyed or angry with him for taking food. He had a more inquisitive expression and his focus on the little cloth bag.

Oscar sighed and set his bag in front of him, eyeing Dean's nearby hand. "I just ... this is where I put the stuff I find. I didn't think you'd mind if I saved the extra food..." He opened it up again and drew out his hasty bundle to set it down next to the bag. He also took out a broken shard of plastic he'd found somewhere, and finally his safety pin with thread looped tidily around it. "This is all my stuff!" he announced, wringing his hands at the sight of his things all laid out; it seemed like so little.

Dean didn’t notice how nervous Oscar was. All his attention was on the tiny objects sitting on the table. He didn’t touch the bundle of food, leaving it be where Oscar had placed it down. He wasn’t about to take the food back after he’d given it to the kid, especially not after Oscar’s hurried confession the night before about taking crumbs he found on the floor.

Instead, Dean’s fascination found its way to the tiny safety pin and thread that was sitting on the smooth surface of the table. He pinched it between two fingers, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he tried to divine the purpose of the mundane object for a kid shorter than his pinkie. He shifted it around, then glanced at Oscar hopefully.

Oscar raised his eyebrows and realized Dean was asking him with a glance what the pin could be used for. He got to his feet and held out his hands to gesture for it back. As one of his most essential tools, Oscar had no problem explaining it. "I gotta take that with me everywhere I go so I can get around," he explained.

Once he had it in his hands again, he unlooped the thread, letting it fall in a bunch at his feet. The sturdy knot fixing it to the end of the pin held, and Oscar opened it up with a small squeak of effort. Then, he held up his pin proudly, the other hand clutched around part of the thread. "I can use it to climb! I'm still kinda slow, but my mom said I was getting real good at it."

A dubious expression flashed over Dean’s face, and he glanced at the floor, then back to Oscar, hardly believing that the kid used a _safety pin_ to climb. That _couldn’t_ be safe. It was bad enough the times Dean had to get Sam down from the trees he climbed in when he was little, and they had plenty of branches to cling to.

Up on the table, it was a sheer cliff to get down. Dean blanched at the thought of climbing down from that high up with _nothing_ below him. The gaping wide space beneath his boots… He hurriedly focused back on Oscar before the vertigo set in again.

He didn’t know what it was, but ever since he was little, he hated the idea of flying, or large heights (like, say, a table turned into a cliff). Sam didn’t have any problems, and Dean didn’t know if his little brother had figured him out those times climbing trees.

It _would_ be a good way to get Dean back if Sam was looking for some revenge over Dean’s pranks.

Dean pinched the thread Oscar had bundled at his feet, trying to see if it was long enough to reach to the ground. He cocked an eyebrow at the tiny kid.

Oscar huffed and his lips pursed in a determined pout. He could see the doubt lining Dean's expression even as the older boy pulled the thread away to examine it. "I _can!_ I climb all the time!" he insisted. His cheeks warmed with indignation and a drive to assure the human beyond that doubt.

He stepped forward, nearly tripping on his bag, and waved his pin to display it more prominently. He hardly minded that Dean loomed more the closer he got to him. "See it? It's like a hook! It catches on the edge of stuff and I use the string to pull myself up."

He darted a few steps towards the edge of the table, before turning to tug at the string that Dean still pinched in his fingers. "I can show you!"

Dean leaned back a little at Oscar’s determined advance, not expecting such determination in such a tiny body. Again reminded of his little brother Sam, Dean found his fingers letting go of the string to let it fall to the tabletop for Oscar to pull back to himself. The brief thought of holding onto it so Oscar couldn’t put himself at risk climbing down the table was only a passing fancy that didn’t take root in Dean’s mind.

Caught off guard or not, Dean tapped a finger on top of Oscar’s head, then when he was sure he had the kid’s attention, held his hands cupped together and put them next to the table. He wasn’t about to let a kid so young dangle himself from the side of the table without some extra insurance in case he slipped or fell, no matter _how_ confident Oscar was.

Oscar clutched at his pin with one hand and brushed at his head with the other. A gigantic fingertip poking at him still required a lot of getting used to, but at least it wasn't done to hurt him. He was safe, if ruffled. He wandered closer to the edge of the table where Dean cupped his hands, and looked up at the human inquisitively.

"You wanna ... help me climb down?" he guessed. Oscar was confident in his ability to get down from the table by himself, but all the same he didn't particularly mind the idea of added security. He dragged his string toward himself to prepare and nodded. "Okay, but so long as you still believe I can do it!" he decided.

Dean rolled his eyes, but he grinned at Oscar. He didn’t mind giving the kid a chance to prove himself, and was kind of looking forward to seeing what he could do. This was _way_ more interesting than watching Sonic the Hedgehog or X-Men!

Shifting his position, Dean knelt on the floor next to the table and tucked his feet in. He held out his hands directly below where Oscar was standing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's day!
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!
> 
>  **Next:** February 17th, 2021


	7. Trust is a Journey

Oscar knelt down so he could peek over the edge of the table. The hands below might have sent fear rocketing through his body if he didn't know the owner of them was only trying to help. He noted that he could tumble from the table right then and there and he wouldn't be hurt by the fall; Dean's hands were too close to allow it. At most, he’d startle himself and then be royally embarrassed.  
  
"Okay," Oscar said to himself to focus, standing back up and gathering his string. He stooped to place his pin, the point digging into the table as much as his tiny strength would allow, and the other half of the pin braced against the edge of the table. His tongue stuck out at an angle as he worked, and he couldn't refrain from a glance at the door of the room before he planted his feet. Just like any other climb, he had to make sure he was ready and he had to reassure himself that he was safe to make his way down. Having a safety net couldn’t change his routine.  
  
Then, in a slow, controlled lean, Oscar tilted himself over the side of the table until his own tiny weight pulled taut against the pin and helped secure it in place. His feet closed carefully over the suspended string, and from there he could begin his downward climb, a careful and deliberate journey.  
  
Dean was almost afraid to breathe as he watched Oscar’s slow descent from the tabletop. He felt like a single breath could knock the kid from his precarious height, or set the thread swaying. Dean had never watched someone scale down a building before and this reminded him of much the same thing.  
  
His hands didn’t budge from their position underneath Oscar, but he did lower them as the kid continued his climb, keeping enough distance between them that he wouldn’t interfere with Oscar’s daring stunt. The thread brushed against his hand as Oscar went, disturbed from the kid’s movements as he pinched it between his wrapped feet.  
  
 _Those kind of shoes make more sense now,_ Dean considered distractedly as he watched Oscar go. Boots like Dean’s wouldn’t be able to keep a grip on the thread as consistently as the foot wraps. Or that’s what it seemed like to Dean. He tried to imagine climbing like this and could only flinch at how easy it would be to lose his grip.  
  
Oscar, for his part, glanced down a lot more often than he usually would. Halfway from the top of the table, he could see all around him and across the expanse of carpet. Except for straight down, he had a far view of the space around the table. He looked over his shoulder carefully to send Dean a little smile.  
  
The minor swaying in the string from his movements didn't faze him. Oscar was careful with every slow shift of his hands or feet. Even so, when he had only a quarter of the way to go, he slid an entire inch along the thread and sucked in a surprised gasp. His body tensed and curled slightly to halt the fall, but his heart already pounded from it.  
  
Dean’s eyes widened and his hands instinctively moved upwards at the sight of Oscar’s short drop. With his heart pounding, he let his hands just barely brush against Oscar’s tiny feet to let the other kid know he was secure, and if he wanted to stop climbing, he could.  
  
There was only a little distance left between Oscar and the floor, which left Dean practically crouching in half in order to be able to keep his hands cupped underneath. The discomfort was furthest from his mind as he looked down at the tiny kid dangling by a thread.  
  
Oscar glanced down and stared at Dean's hands, contemplating them. Then, after a pause, he let his feet down onto the offered surface, hardly pressing down on Dean's skin at all. He had proven himself well enough.  
  
With a proud, hopeful smile, he turned to look up at the human again. One hand still clutched his string, keeping it from swaying too much while they remained there. "See? I can throw my hook all the way up, too! It takes a long time to climb up, though..."  
  
Dean could easily imagine that. His eyes trailed up the thread, once more trying to imagine himself standing at Oscar’s size, and unable to quite envision it. The closest he could come was the idea of trying to scale up the side of a building with a hook and thread, and even that didn’t quite fit. The table had no surface to walk down unless Oscar used a table leg, and he was far from one of those at the moment.  
  
Slipping the bottom hand from where it was cupped, Dean lightly touched the thread, following it up. He was suitably impressed by Oscar’s daring, and it showed in the way his eyebrows arched up and his forehead wrinkled.  
  
Since Oscar was standing safely on his hand, he reached to the top and pulled the pin out. He gave Oscar a grin as he held it out, proud of the little guy. He might be small but he was certainly proving he had a few tricks up his sleeves.  
  
Oscar accepted the pin gratefully and closed it up before he could poke himself or Dean with it. He had his suspicions that Dean would forgive him if he accidentally jabbed him, but it was best to be safe anyway. Oscar set to diligently spooling his thread around the pin, keeping it neat and ready for when he needed it.  
  
With a human carrying him around, traversing the room got a lot easier.  
  
He glanced down at Dean's hand beneath him. He could feel a pulse in time with a heart that was bigger than Oscar by several times. He couldn't help pushing on the palm with one foot to see how much give it had in it before looking up again. "Can I spend some more time in here?" he asked, hardly believing his own words. They were sincere; Oscar had never had a friend before.  
  
Dean couldn't stop the smile that brightened his face at the query, some of the light coming back to his eyes for the first time since losing Sam. Instead of feeling like a pariah, he felt _needed_. More than that, he felt _wanted_ , a feeling in his life that was severely lacking in his interactions with John, and Bobby wasn't around often enough to matter.  
  
Nodding gamely along, Dean curled his fingers closer to Oscar to guard him from falling, then pushed himself to his feet. He snagged a bag of Gummi Bears from his bag and grabbed the remote control before sitting on the bed.  
  
This time, he elected to use the pillow, instead of lying flat at the foot of the bed. Like this, Dean tilted his hand so Oscar could slide onto his chest and he wouldn't miss a word the tiny kid said. Dean left one of the little gummies next to Oscar and went to grab more for himself from the package.  
  
Oscar tumbled over once on Dean's chest, caught off guard by the steady breaths and the close plodding of that heart. He pushed himself up on his hands and knees and then clung to Dean's shirt while everything was in motion. He stared straight down, marveling that now he could swear the sound of Dean’s heart was loud enough for him to hear. On the edge of awareness, it plodded away to keep the giant going. Oscar gripped Dean’s shirt even tighter as the chest dropped with an exhaled breath. He didn't like the thought of tumbling further and falling right off of the chest to the bed. He could get squished that way.  
  
Then, he noticed the gummy bear Dean left nearby. It was emerald green and gave off a sweet scent that held Oscar's attention despite the full dinner he'd had. He tugged the candy towards himself and sat cross-legged.  
  
It was a lot of candy; the bear had to be nearly a third Oscar's height. "Wow, no one ever drops anything like this!" he exclaimed, before nibbling on one of the bear's ears.  
  
Dean ruffled Oscar’s hair again as he settled back against the pillow, letting himself sink into the bedding. He was proud that the fear Oscar had for him from the day before was gone, and didn’t mind sharing a snack. It was just one gummy, after all, and it was big enough to tide Oscar over for the rest of the night, easy. Dean would be shocked if Oscar managed to finish it in one day.  
  
Clicking the buttons on the remote, Dean channel surfed and found _Sonic the Hedgehog_ again, ruing the way the motel televisions always reset and started at the same channel when they were turned on. Once the blue blur was darting from one side of the display to the other, Dean tossed the controller down and popped his own gummy bears in his mouth, wishing they’d last him half as long as Oscar’s. He rested a hand close to where Oscar was while he watched the TV, wanting to make sure Oscar didn’t go tumbling off at all.  
  
With a snack in hand, Oscar sat still for more of the show than he had before. He had a feeling it would take him a while to get used to sitting on a surface that rose and fell to the sound of a breeze filling massive lungs, but he was comfortable. He watched the colorful cartoon in a companionable silence with his new friend.  
  
He couldn't finish the gummy bear. Eventually, he had to set it aside while they watched; and then later in the evening Oscar determined it time to return home. Dean carried him to his vent like before, nodded his okay for Oscar to visit again, and soon enough they parted ways for the evening. Oscar wasn't sure what the human did at night, but as he got home and snuggled up under the covers on what used to be his mom's bed, he was free of worry enough to drop off to sleep faster than he had in a long time.  
  
The following days passed similarly. Oscar finished up his sewing and cleaning up dust during the day, waiting for the afternoon when Dean would be back. Then, he'd go to the vent to look for his human friend, and they'd have food before watching tv or playing. Oscar enjoyed his time in the room more and more; he hadn't been able to simply be a kid for a long time.  
  
The sixth day was no different, though something in the back of Oscar's mind told him it ought to be. He made his way to the vent as usual with a haste he usually reserved for getting _away_ from the motel rooms. He barely even paused at the opening, only glancing into the room to make sure there were no unfamiliar humans within. He hopped over the pile of salt and onto the carpet.  
  
Naturally, Dean was already in the room. Oscar might not have realized how the days pass, since he didn’t have to worry about things like school, but it was Saturday, and Dean didn’t have anywhere else to be and no one else to see.  
  
As a result, Dean found himself on his own for the morning. He paced around for a bit, looking at the vent with concern. He had to remind himself that Oscar never came (that he knew of) to the room before he got home each day, and it was far too early for that. Though the temptation lurked to sit down and see what he could do with the vent and if he could take it off the wall, Dean restrained himself. There wasn’t much chance he’d be able to squash his shoulders into such a small space. He wished briefly that the motel had the larger vents that he remembered from other motels and other stays. Those he could at least fit into, and maybe see where it was Oscar went when he left.  
  
With nothing else to do and no other distractions, Dean ended up sitting at the table, methodically taking apart his colt and cleaning each of the pieces. Since being in the motel, he’d slacked off on his weapon care, and John wouldn’t appreciate that latitude if he ever found out.  
  
 _Do you_ want _to die?!_  
  
After it was clean, Dean slid the pieces expertly back together, admiring the gleam as the metal etchings caught the light in the room, his reflection staring back at him. That was when he realized he could hear a familiar sound, and glanced up to see Oscar standing next to the vent. He wasted no time getting up, the gun tucked instinctively in his pants where it would be hidden from view if anyone else happened into the room.  
  
Dean scooped Oscar up into his hands as soon as he could, grinning to see his small friend back.  
  
Oscar smiled back, though he clung to Dean's thumb. Before befriending him, Oscar might have thought the sight of Dean rushing over and reaching down for him was the most terrifying thing to happen to him. Now, he knew Dean didn't aim to trap him or hurt him for sneaking into the room like any other human might do. Dean was his friend, the only friend Oscar had ever had. He could handle the rapid ascent that came with greeting Dean every day.  
  
"Hi again!" he said, letting go of the thumb once he was sure he felt secure. Oscar sat on Dean's palm with his legs stretched out in front of him and his hands propping him up, at ease. Though it hadn’t even been a week since he first met Dean, there was a more definite note of health in his complexion and eyes.  
  
Dean nudged Oscar gently in the shoulder with his thumb, a reassuring movement in the beginning that was becoming his own way of greeting his small friend. Having someone else around who didn’t have any expectations of Dean was a balm on his soul, and the gaping hole in his chest from Sam’s loss was finally losing its complete grip on the teenager. There was still a lump in his throat when he tried to speak up for himself, but it didn’t hurt so much to turn the lights off at night. Dean was beginning to heal, away from his father’s heavy-handed personality.  
  
John Winchester might be a great hunter, but he didn’t understand his children - his child, anywhere near as well as he understood how to best stop a haunting. His own attempts to stave off his grief ended with him shouting at Dean, wondering why the older brother wasn’t able to hold off the witch just a minute longer.  
  
 _Just a few minutes. A few minutes and I’d’ve been there!_  
  
Today, Dean lifted Oscar up close to eye-level and nodded his head at the curtained window. He pushed a curtain out of the way, showing the little guy the outside world along with an entreaty. Dean didn’t want to eat another peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but he couldn’t exactly order himself a pizza, so if they walked to the nearby Gas ‘N Sip or diner, he could order himself a cheeseburger.  
  
Oscar stared through the glass at the world beyond his little motel. He'd never once set foot outside, and his views through the windows were rare, and seen from a much lower angle. He placed his hands on Dean's fingertips to brace himself up as he leaned towards the window, keen eyes scanning everything he could see.  
  
There were cars and trees and wide expanses of cement, and birds several times Oscar's size banked in the air. Everything was brighter out there, definitely brighter than his usual passageways in the walls. He found himself ducking down just a bit so he was hidden behind Dean's curled fingers, peeking over the edge.  
  
Then, he looked over his shoulder at Dean and noticed his expression. Oscar bit his lip. He'd gotten better at reading Dean's face in the last few days. "You ... want to go outside today?" His face turned a little pink. "I never went outside before ... too scared."  
  
Dean nudged Oscar reassuringly before curling his fingers up to offer more cover. He understood why Oscar wouldn’t want to go out, but he didn’t share the same fears, or dangers. It wasn’t even just the difference in their sizes, either.  
  
If Oscar was brave enough to venture outside with Dean, he was traveling with a teenager who was more than capable of defending himself, and anyone with him. Dean was trained in hand to hand combat, and he had more than one weapon, including his Colt, squirreled away on his person. There was even a matching knife to the one Sam had on him that fateful night, made as a test run for the gift Dean wanted to make for his little brother. Sam might be gone, but that made the knife more precious than ever to Dean.  
  
After a brief moment of thought, Dean pinched open his chest pocket with his other hand and arched an eyebrow at Oscar. In there, the little guy would be hidden away, out of sight and able to watch where Dean was going all the while. It was a perfect hiding spot for a trip to get food.  
  
Oscar eyed the pocket for a few long seconds, and then turned to look back at the window. The sky was far away, farther than the ceilings of the motel rooms. If he went outside, he would go farther from home than he ever had, and the thought made his heart flutter.  
  
It just figured that befriending a human like he had done would invite more adventures into his life. He sighed quietly and looked back at the pocket. If he hid in there, he could be safe from anyone else seeing him. He'd know Dean was close by and ready to keep him safe. He nodded sheepishly. "O-okay," he said, watching the opening closely. "I'll try it. Since I can hide."  
  
With Oscar’s approval, Dean took the initiative to move his hand closer to the pocket and widen the opening. He glanced briefly between the pocket and the tiny kid that was cupped in his palm, and his brow furrowed in concentration as he cautiously lowered his hand down, slipping his fingers in first.  
  
Once his fingers were inside, Dean tilted his hand, turning his palm and fingers into a slide that lead right down into the darkness within. A week ago, he’d have called the idea of putting a kid in his pocket crazy.  
  
Crazy or not, Oscar cracked a grin as he slid down into the cloth enclosure. He'd never been on a slide before, but so long as he had a soft landing, it could be fun. He landed in a heap in the bottom of Dean's pocket and immediately squirmed around to right himself.  
  
"It's so weird!" he called up, scrambling to grip the weave of the thick fabric. It wasn't a problem at all for his tiny fingers, though he had more difficulty getting his feet under him.  
  
"I can't reach!" he declared, before diligently climbing himself up to the edge of the pocket. Once there, he clung to it tightly and braced his feet against the cloth wall so he wouldn't tumble down again.  
  
Dean smirked as Oscar’s head popped back up, finding himself endeared by the sight of a kid who was too short to stand straight in a _pocket_. Sam would just get a kick out of that if he was around.  
  
The thought of his little brother didn’t hurt as much as it used to for Dean. He could imagine how wide-eyed Sam would be at the sight of his older brother with little Oz in his pocket, barely clinging to the side. Dean ruffled Oscar’s hair before letting go of the pocket flap, and then nudged the teeny feet that were pressed against the side of his chest to see how high Oscar had to cling to see out. In response, Oscar squirmed again and nearly slipped from the edge of the pocket. With the pocket flap to contend with, it took more split attention just to stay at the top.  
  
Now that Oscar was settled, Dean went to the table to grab his wallet, stuffing it into his back pocket. Normally, John might leave them in a room with just some cash for the week, but with Sam gone, it didn’t cost so much to feed just Dean, so he had one of John’s fake credit cards to hang onto in case of emergencies. Dean survived well enough, and this card meant he didn’t have to risk taking the five finger discount when he ran out to the store. The last item he grabbed from the table was the motel room key. He didn’t want to have to break into his own room when he got back, though he had his own lockpicking set hidden in a pocket for any ‘just in case’ scenarios.  
  
Most of Dean’s life seemed to be driven by ‘just in case’s.’  
  
Checking that his gun was in his back pocket and his knife was hidden, Dean strode over to the room door. The sun spilled over the two kids as he opened it up, and then resolutely slammed behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two still break my heart whenever I read this, and I helped WRITE it.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!
> 
> **Next:** February 21st, 2021


	8. The Great Outdoors

Oscar gasped and let go of the edge of the pocket the second Dean stepped outside. Even as he plopped to the bottom with the faintest huff of a sigh, his eyes shut tight and swam with spots from the bright light. He covered his face with his hands while he contemplated the all new set of sounds he could hear from outside his safe enclosure. The cars on the road, the wind in the trees, and even the distant chirping of birds all reached him in clarity he'd never encountered before. It was all _right there,_ closer to him than ever, though all Dean had needed to do was step outside.

After a moment, Oscar opened his eyes again and peeked around himself. The bright light filtered through the fabric of the pocket to cover him in a hundred little pinpricks of light. He scooted himself to one corner of the pocket while Dean walked, and clung to the fabric as tightly as he could. Dean's nearby heartbeat anchored him.

Oscar wasn't supposed to go outside by himself. He hadn’t had anyone around for the last year until he became friends with Dean, so the thought never entered his mind.

His heart pounded. It was all very new and nerve-wracking. At least he wasn't by himself. He absently wondered what he looked like from outside the pocket, but dared not speak up to ask. If another human was close enough to hear, he'd be in so much trouble. Instead, he leaned away from the outer edge and clung to the shirt fabric against Dean's chest.

For Dean, the motion of Oscar in his pocket was easy to miss. He paused, briefly glancing down to brush a hand over the outside of the pocket. He could feel the tiny kid curled into a corner, and a bout of protective instinct rose up inside him. There was a lot of trust invested in him by a kid who was helpless out here, and Dean wasn’t going to let him down.

He stepped out into the sunlight of the warm fall afternoon, and the pocket swung gently with his motions. For the first time since losing Sam, Dean felt himself instinctively sizing up any threats that might be about, a feeling that was absent from him for so long, adding to the gaping hole inside his chest.

With someone to protect once again, Dean could feel himself calculating all the dangers. That girl walking her dog down the street. Oscar was smaller than a dog treat. Dean would never want to let the kid so close to a dog the size of a house. Even the girl might be a threat. She couldn’t be over twelve years old, what if she thought he was a doll? Oscar would be helpless against them both.

The kids in the park, normally a sight that didn’t bother Dean, made him bristle as well. So much energy, uncontained. If a three or four year old saw a kid the size of Oscar, they’d for sure think he was a toy. He was _action figure sized,_ easy to grab up in a fist and squeeze too hard no matter how much he struggled to get away. Dean couldn't let him down.

It was only a short walk until his steps lead him to the small diner. He was a familiar face to the hostess, and she smiled kindly at Dean as he pushed the door open. She already knew he wouldn’t talk, but she had his order down. “Bacon cheeseburger?” she asked with a knowing air, cocking her head back so her blonde curls fell over her shoulders.

Dean nodded, and as she went to put in the to-go order for him, he leaned back against the wall and stuck his hands in his pockets. He’d come here a few times since staying at the motel, and couldn't wait to see what Oscar thought of the food.

Oscar waited with a pounding heart, listening to the sounds of the diner. Plates and cups clicked and silverware clattered. Conversations in loud voices almost drowned out his thoughts and he shuddered. Hanging out with Dean, a silent human, made Oscar forget just how domineering just a laugh from a human could be, echoing across the shared space with ease.

He focused himself on the smell in the room instead. His stomach, still very unused to having regular access to food, pined for him to go searching for crumbs. Small pieces of sustenance that could add up slowly.

Oscar was suddenly and inexplicably emboldened by the fact that he had someone to look out for him. He hadn't worried about food in days. Every day he was allowed to hide away his leftovers to bring home. He found himself wondering what Dean had decided on.

He uncurled himself once more to grip the fabric of the pocket. With slow, careful movements, Oscar climbed upwards until he could reach the pocket flap. After a pause, he pushed on it just enough to give himself a window and see out. He could scan the diner himself.

Of course, planning that and doing it were two entirely different things. The moment a server drifted by with a tray of food for some other patrons, Oscar let go with a gasp and dropped to the bottom again.

Dean could feel Oscar moving around in his pocket, and couldn’t stop himself from sending a curious glance down to see what was going on. Naturally, all he could make out was the top of the pocket flap, and only slight movements from within, so slight that they could be mistaken for the motion of the shirt from Dean’s breathing.

Ignoring the bustle around him from the onset of the early dinner rush, Dean gently pressed a hand over his pocket to reassure the tiny kid within. There wasn’t much else he could do without taking the risk of Oscar being spotted, so he had to settle.

Oscar flinched first before realizing it was just Dean pressing his hand to the pocket. Dean would never squish Oscar. In fact, Oscar could almost imagine the face the human teen would make to such a suggestion.

After hastily squirming himself upright, Oscar pushed back on the palm with both hands. If nothing else, Dean would know he was okay enough, even if the communication wasn't perfect. He didn't dare speak, and suddenly Oscar had an appreciation for the hard work Dean went through to get his point across without words.

Dean left his hand there for a beat longer after he felt the tiniest little hands push against him. Before dropping his hand away, he nudged where he thought Oscar’s side was, teasing his friend to remind him he was safely out of sight.

As Dean looked up from his pocket, the hostess was approaching him with a to-go container in her hands, and he flashed his old smirk her way, falling into his flirting habits like they’d never been gone.

A light blush touched her face, and she rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you the charmer?” she said as she handed his food over, waiting patiently for him to take the bag.

Dean paid with his father’s card before leaving, sending the hostess a jaunty wave over his shoulder. It felt _good_ to be doing something normal again, even if it was as simple as grabbing some grub.

The park was a quick walk from the diner, and Dean found what he was looking for after only a few minutes of searching. Away from the playground and the fields used for sports practices, there were a few picnic tables. No one was around, and Dean chose a table that was out of the way and sheltered by a few large pine and oak trees.

He sat down on a bench after a quick check to make sure no birds had left any presents behind, and set the bag of food down. With one last glance around the park, Dean made sure there were no joggers passing by, and then flipped open his pocket and slipped two fingers into his pocket to gather Oscar up.

Oscar looked up with a surprised gasp. A part of him had known this was coming, and the rest of him worried about it all over again. He would be _outside,_ where a bird or dog or another human could spot him easily. There weren't even ceilings outside to keep the space from expanding outward around him forever.

Then, before he could do much to counter Dean's plan, the two fingers scooped underneath him and Oscar had to cling to them. He curled up in the curve Dean created, ducking his head, while the open air and sunlight hit him at last. He was outside for real.

"Oh no," he mumbled instinctively, though he did take a chance and peeked up as Dean lifted him away from the pocket. The picnic table stretched out beneath him, and beyond that was the drop to the grass. Real grass, not something from a picture or TV. Oscar had never seen anything so green.

Dean cautiously tilted his hand to let Oscar slide onto the table, some awe in his face at how _tiny_ Oscar looked outside. It was one thing to see the kid when they were hanging out in the motel room, something else altogether to see him standing out in the open. Despite the trees that ringed the picnic table, the space was wide open and above them were blue skies. Because of that, Oscar’s tiny form-- and he couldn’t stand more than two inches tall-- looked smaller than he really was.

Someone that small wasn’t _made_ for the outdoors.

Busying himself with emptying the bag with food, Dean tried to hide such thoughts from his face. Not talking had its advantages, and he knew Oscar wouldn’t ask him what he was thinking. He couldn’t help it, really. Sam had been a small and scrawny kid, but at least he was tall enough that hand to hand combat lessons taught him to take care of himself. For Oscar, that wouldn’t matter. He’d still be scooped up in a hand if someone wanted to grab him.

The bacon cheeseburger, Dean’s pride and joy of their lunch, was last to see open air, and the scent of the bacon immediately filled the air in their direct vicinity. The burger was dripping with juice, and he knew he’d have to eat it fast before the bun disintegrated.

Dean cautiously plucked a piece free for Oscar, getting some of the bun that was dry and making sure to keep the beef and bacon prominent as he offered it to Oscar.

Oscar stood rigid on the surface of the table for a second longer, glancing around. As was his habit when nervous, his feet were close together and he clutched at the strap of his bag, an effort to take up even less space than he usually did. It helped him feel like he was less exposed.

The smell of the food, however, quickly held his attention and was impossible to ignore. He'd tried several different things since he started visiting Dean. He'd never once had _bacon_ before in his life, however, and his stomach pined at him to fix that quickly.

He took a few halting steps on the table, pausing to look down. The wood grain was worn and grubby from so much time in the elements. It was real wood, not a fake texture like the furniture in the motel rooms. He’d never seen it so worn. Oscar even saw a few tiny little bugs crawling deep in one of the cracks. They were little even to him.

He stumbled the rest of the way and his hands stretched out to take the offered food from Dean. Oscar clutched it and looked around again, taking in the sights of the leaves waving in the breeze and the bluer-than-blue sky up above. The world was _so big_ compared to him.

At least he had an ally. Oscar inched a little closer to Dean before he took his seat on the table. His human friend would keep him safe. "I _guess_ outside isn't s-so bad..."

Dean nodded encouragement at that. So long as he was around, Oscar would be safe while he was outside. Indeed, though Dean turned his attention to his burger so it wouldn’t get cold on him, he rested one elbow not far from Oscar’s seat. He wouldn’t risk having Oscar too far out of reach.

The burger was as delicious as he’d hoped, despite the quickly disintegrating bun. Dean didn’t waste any time eating it, sending the occasional glance Oscar’s direction. They’d have to go back to that diner another time, Dean wanted to find out exactly how good the pie was there if the burgers were this tasty.

It felt so odd to enjoy an afternoon sitting outside at a picnic table. Dean really had grown too used to sitting around in the motel room, spending more time messing with his weapons and research than anything else. Sam wasn’t around to drag him out anymore and he didn’t have the heart to spend any time around the other kids at school, not even the cute girl Shelly who gave him a smile full of dimples near the end of the week.

Oscar nibbled away at his food, appreciating the flavor like he always did. The generous portion gave him plenty to work with while he stared around them with wide, pensive eyes. There was a breeze out here, but it wasn't as harsh and cool as the air conditioning when it turned on in the vents. It was pleasant, though it tousled his hair all the same.

Every time a bird fluttered overhead, Oscar flinched from the sudden movement. Even as he did, he watched the creatures wheel about in the sky, chirping happily. He'd heard that sound quite often, but had never seen the source before.

He stored away his extra food like he always did when his stomach filled up (a feeling he welcomed). Then, after making sure his hands were clean, Oscar stood and wandered just a few steps on the table to a gap between boards. Even in the shade of the table, the grass down below tried its best to stay healthy.

He watched the kids playing in the distance for a few seconds before turning to look up at Dean with a grin. He pointed back at them excitedly. "They're climbing for _fun!_ My mom ... my mom always used to say humans did that but I always said 'no way.' "

Dean followed Oscar’s gaze, sipping from his soda while he finished off the rest of his fries. There were only a few left at the bottom of the bag, and it crinkled while he searched with groping fingers for one last bite.

From a distance, the playground in the park was fairly peaceful. A mom sat to the side, reading a book while the kids giggled, playing tag and climbing the monkey bars. Dean snorted, remembering the times Sam had disdained using the playground equipment. He’d rather climb the trees nearby - and that meant Dean had to climb after him to get him down.

Getting an idea, Dean held his hand out for Oscar and arched his eyebrows inquisitively. They didn’t have to go right back, after all. He could show the kid some of the outdoors before he left, a chance Oscar had never had before.

Oscar was intrigued, and he stepped toward the offered hand without a thought. That was becoming easier and easier for him; he stepped onto a hand that could trap him and stumbled, but didn't hesitate. He found himself hastily taking a seat right in the center of Dean's palm.

"Where are we going now? Home already?" he asked. He was unsure if he hoped for that or not. The outdoors were big and a little scary, but he wasn't out here by himself. He stood a chance so long as Dean was nearby.

Dean shook his head as he lifted up his hand, a mischievous look in his eyes. They could at least take a short walk around so Oscar could see the world near his motel. After so many years spent travelling from one corner of the continental US to the other, Dean couldn’t fathom spending his entire life in one motel. His life was as different from Oscar’s as it was possible to be.

This time, he was smoother in the motion to pick Oscar up and lift him to a pocket. Dean pinched the pocket flap between two fingers and let Oscar slide off his fingers into the depths. Before checking on Oscar, Dean gathered up the trash and shoved it into a nearby bin. Then, he straightened, checking his surroundings with a hunter’s eye before turning his gaze down to his pocket to see if Oscar would be able to look out while he walked.

Oscar climbed up like before, twining his fingers through the weave of Dean's shirt. When Dean was always on the move, it was one of the strangest ways to climb. Oscar knew how to climb the cloth of the curtains in the motel rooms, but they couldn't walk.

Once he reached the top he stared straight up and met Dean's gaze. His grip on the edge of the pocket was tight and he had to push on the flap of Dean's pocket to see his face. He still hadn't guessed his plan, and he knew he wouldn't figure it out by asking.

"I'll still hide here, okay?" he announced. He made sure he could stay unseen if Dean were to walk closer to someone else.

Dean grinned and gave Oscar a thumbs up. Knowing Oscar was settled made it easier to look away from the pocket. He could feel the tiny weight there, and that was a constant reminder of the tiny trust Dean had found in him.

Sticking his hands in his jacket pockets, Dean affected a casual appearance. He strolled through the trees, finding a pathway close to the picnic tables to follow through the trunks. The day was edging towards evening, and the sun touched the horizon in the distance and lit up the world in an orange hue.

The peaceful aura didn’t put a damper on the exuberance of the kids in the playground by a long shot. Dean leaned against a tree, watching from a distance so he didn’t attract the attention of their parents. The woman on the bench was deeply embroiled in her book, but not far from her was another woman, looking slightly younger and harried as she fiddled with her baby carriage.

Oscar watched the world around them with wide, curious eyes. The bold orange of the sky and the sharp smell of grass imprinted in his memories. He took a chance and let one of his arms hang over the edge of the pocket to hold himself up.

He fell into watching the other humans timidly. The other kids looked like they were having fun, but Oscar shuddered. He wouldn't want to be any closer to them, so he could content himself watching their antics on the playground. It did give him some ideas. He was sure he could make something like that with the materials he found around the motel. Dean could probably come up with even more ideas.

A shrill cry from the baby carriage drew his attention like a beacon. Oscar had heard that sound from the walls of the motel before. A toddler always cried like that when they wanted something. Oscar sighed when the young mother hurried to get a container of snacks and hand food off to the unseen, fussy child. "Good thing she had that," Oscar said aloud almost wistfully.

Dean watched with hooded eyes as the mother took care of her child. He could remember his own mother, taken from them when he was just a kid himself, younger than Oscar was now. There weren’t many memories, not as many as there should be, but he knew it was more than his brother had ever had. Sam lost any chance of getting to know her when he wasn’t even a year old, and now he’d lost any chance of getting to know _anyone_.

The other kids played on as the mother calmed the cries, ignoring everyone else around them as they got caught up in a quick game of tag. One girl squealed as she got caught, and became ‘it.’ Dean smiled at that, wishing he’d had more of a childhood. The thought of his own lost childhood rarely came to him anymore, but on days like this, with other kids around and having a great time, it was hard not to consider the might-haves and the could-have-beens.

Unbeknownst to the pair, Oscar was caught in the same line of thinking. He would certainly not be outside, in a pocket of all things, if things had gone differently. His own mom would probably be handing off crumbs of food for him to keep him from fussing about his hunger. She would wrap him in a hug, a curtain of hair falling over his face and making him wrinkle his nose.

She would be telling him nice stories, or showing him how to sew up a seam on his pants, or watching while he did his own chores. She would be there, protecting him from being hungry.

Oscar might never have met Dean, if he didn’t have to go out to the rooms himself. A strain of melancholy broke his musings apart after that realization. He couldn’t have his mom and his human friend at the same time. It never would have happened.

They watched the park in companionable silence for a while. Oscar couldn't hold back another sigh as one of the kids playing tag ran up to the mother on the bench. She smoothed the girl's hair back and smiled and said something, and watching the action ached. "M-maybe we should go inside now," Oscar suggested, looking up. "It'll get dark and then the night animals will come out."

Dean waited a moment more, taking one last glance at the kids in the playground, then he turned away. He brushed a finger over Oscar’s head, understanding why the kid might be so nervous about the dark. Dean knew to be afraid of what lurked in the dark, though he was as prepared as it was possible to be at his age. Wild animals were the least of his problems, especially in a field so close to the town.

The path back to the motel was too short for him to really sort out his thoughts on the family he’d lost, yet the minutes of walking stretched out into an eternity.

* * *

  
The motel room was quiet when they got back, and Dean sighed as he tossed his jacket onto the nearby bed. He cautiously scooped his hand into his pocket, drawing Oscar up into the open air and lowering him down onto the bed so they could watch some TV before he had to head home.

"Waitasecond!" Oscar blurted, resolutely staying on Dean's hand. He went so far as to coil an arm around the human's thumb to keep from sliding even if the hand tilted. "I wanna go back to my house and get somethin'. Can I go get it and come back?"

He stared up at Dean with an earnestness he hadn't felt in some time. Oscar had come to a decision while Dean walked back to the motel, one that he hoped wouldn't lash back at him somehow. It was an impulse worth following, if Dean were to agree to it.

Dean paused, caught off guard by the exclamation. Oscar never raised his voice-- not that he had to, considering Dean’s own silence. A thousand unspoken questions swam behind Dean’s murky green eyes, but he lifted his hand back up off the bed, considering Oscar for a long moment before giving in to the unexpected request and nodding.

It only took him a few steps to reach the vent, and Dean held his hands close enough to the slits for Oscar to be able to squirm his way back to his home, just like he did every night.

Oscar smiled, butterflies in his stomach as he thought about what he was planning. He waved to Dean before slipping into the vent like he always did. "I'll run fast," he promised, before scurrying away. On his short legs, he ran as quickly as he could, though Dean could trace his steps fading away with ease.

He reached his opening into the walls and nearly bumped his head on the metal edge. Oscar had never been so hasty _inside_ the walls. He usually reserved it for his time in the rooms, where he was vulnerable and easy to see.

Ever since he had to start going into the rooms by himself, Oscar made a point to be fast. He'd never needed it in the safety of his walls.

He got home and shoved his door closed, and then stopped.

He stared around his small house and panted from his run, realizing just what it meant. This was his safe haven, the place he could come to rest and eat and have a meager shield from the outside world. It wasn't a lot, but it was his.

Oscar took a few shaky breaths while he distractedly tidied up the place. He clutched the curtain in front of his pantry, which had small parcels of cloth-wrapped food arranged on one shelf. The food Dean had given him. He closed the curtain over it, even though the very thought sent ice up his spine.

He gathered his latest sewing work, and made sure his needles were wrapped up tight in it. He stared at his ringbox chair while he stuffed the cloth into his bag with the rest of his supplies. He had always liked that chair. It was comfortable and fit him well.

Finally, Oscar walked into the side room where his bed waited. It used to be his mom's bed, but when she didn't return a year ago he'd claimed it. The nest of fabric lay dully on the floor as if it knew what he was planning. Oscar's heart did another flip.

It took a few minutes, but Oscar finally decided which blanket of the whole mess was his favorite. He tugged the scrap of cloth free and clutched it tight in a hasty bundle.

His eyes stung. He didn't want to leave the other ones there, and he didn't want to leave all that food in the pantry, but he could only carry so much by himself. If Dean agreed with his idea, this would be his last time in his house.

"Well ... bye," he muttered quietly, before he exited his home and pushed the door shut. He heaved a sigh and turned back to the path to the room, trudging along with his bag full of all his most important supplies and his arms full of the one thing he wanted to bring from home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you can all guess where this is going!
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!
> 
> **Next:** February 24th, 2021


	9. Picking Up Strays

Dean found himself unsure of what to do while Oscar was gone.  
  
This was the first time the kid had run off in the middle of his stay, leaving Dean wondering just what Oscar meant when he said he had to get something from his home. Dean didn’t know much about the place Oscar called home, aside from the fact that it was safely in the walls and he needed to use the vents to get there. Dean _did_ still wonder about any others Oscar might live with, and what they thought of his trips to the motel room with Dean, but until he got his voice back those questions remained locked in his mind.  
  
For a distraction, he found himself straightening random things around the room, his ears tuned towards the vent so he’d be prepared for Oscar’s return. The last thing Dean wanted was Oscar wandering around on the floor while Dean was walking around. It was a good way to pass the time.  
  
Dean ended up slouching down against the wall by the vent, working on some of his math homework when he ran out of stuff to do. He couldn’t focus on the television, and homework, as dull as it was, helped.  
  


* * *

  
Oscar tread carefully in the air duct. His cloth wrapped feet hardly made a sound against the cold metal as he crept along, old habit more than anything. Up ahead, he could see the light creeping in from the room where he'd spent so much time in the last week.  
  
He stopped a few inches from it. This was probably a silly endeavor he was attempting. He and Dean might have become friends in the last several days, but there was still a lot they didn't know about each other.  
  
What if Dean didn't want him around after all?  
  
Oscar shook his head to clear it of such disparaging thoughts and pushed himself to close that distance. He peeked out and flinched to find Dean so close to the vent. "I'm back," he announced, even as he hopped down with his arms still full of his blanket bundle.  
  
Then, Oscar stood awkwardly and tried to figure out his words. His little feet shifted on the carpet and his mouth twisted into a frown.  
  
Dean glanced down to see Oscar slipping back out of the vent, and his eyebrows went up when he saw the scrap of cloth the child was clutching to himself, and the little bag Oscar always wore was bulging with more than he normally carried.  
  
Sensing something had changed, Dean placed the homework to the side, out of his way, then shifted so he was laying on his stomach, and a lot closer to Oscar’s level than he’d been. He couldn’t stop himself from briefly reaching out a finger to lightly graze the tiny blanket. He didn’t have the words to ask Oscar about what he was doing, but the curiosity was written across his face and reflected in his eyes.  
  
Oscar hugged the blanket tighter. "It's my best blanket from my bed," he explained, getting that question out of the way. He knew there was more to the look in Dean's eyes, but suddenly, out in the open with the whole room looming over him, Oscar felt silly and doubtful. He let out a quiet huff before he could change his mind and talk himself out of something good.  
  
"I, um," he began, staring resolutely at the worn cloth in his arms. He couldn't meet that gaze, even with Dean's effort to be closer to his level. "W-well, seein' those moms outside made me think of _my_ mom, and how ... I miss her a lot." By the end of his sentence, Oscar's voice had wound up in pitch and he had to swallow the lump in his throat.  
  
"So, I just. Um. I never met a nice human before and I was wondering ... " Oscar heaved a sigh and squeezed the bundle of cloth in his arms. When he worked up the courage to look at Dean's face again, he finally finished his query. "Can I stay? Um. Maybe ... even if you go somewhere else. It's really _hard_ to do this by myself."  
  
If Dean wasn’t already mute, he’d have been rendered speechless by the end of Oscar’s small speech. It might be the most he’d heard from the kid at once the entire time they’d known each other, and the implications sank into his head quickly.  
  
Oscar was _alone._ He didn’t have a family waiting for him back at his home. All that time Dean had thought Oscar had someone else watching out for him, and the little guy had gone back to an empty house, the same way that Dean returned each night to an empty room, at least up until he’d discovered Oscar hiding from him.  
  
The little guy had nowhere else to go, and something in Dean steeled himself for what John would say. The chance that John would approve of Dean 'picking up strays' was very small,’ and the fact that Oscar wasn’t really human, proved by his size and his insistence on calling other people ‘humans,’ wouldn’t help their case.  
  
None of that mattered to Dean. All that _did_ matter was the small child that had come to him, looking afraid of Dean’s answer as his little brown eyes stared up at the much larger teenager. There was only one answer he could give to that.  
  
Getting his knees under him, Dean scooped Oscar up off the ground as he sat up. He lightly brushed Oscar’s hair, just like he always did to reassure his small friend, then nodded solemnly. Oscar could have a place with him if he wanted it. Dean inwardly cringed at the thought of such a tiny kid trying to make it on his own in the world. No, this was for the best. No one had to be alone.  
  
Oscar brushed at his messy hair with a half smile, and then his eyes shut tight and forced out the tears that waited on the brink. He had to scrub them away from his cheeks with the back of his hand, a hasty movement to hide his sudden burst of emotion. He couldn't help it after so long by himself. A long, lonely chapter in his life was coming to a close at last.  
  
He didn't have to be alone anymore.  
  
"Thanks, Dean. I'm glad you're my friend," he said, knowing that the words couldn't convey just how much gratitude he had bottled up inside. He settled for another smile and then gathered up his blanket again, trying to bundle it up tighter to take up less space.  
  
"I promise not to get in the way, and work hard," he said hopefully, settling against Dean's curled fingers for the time being. No one had any idea what it was supposed to be like living with a human. Oscar was paving new roads for himself, but at least he had a good human to begin with.  
  
Dean gave Oscar a weak smile, hoping they wouldn’t regret the decision to stay together. His dad could be every bit as impulsive as Dean could be, and he had to make sure John knew the kid wasn’t a threat. Dean doubted the little guy could hurt a fly.  
  
Still unsure of what he was doing, but wanting to reassure Oscar he wasn’t going to be in the way (at least as much as Dean _could_ reassure him), Dean cupped his curled fingers a little closer around Oscar, and then pressed the tiny kid to his chest in the most gentle hug he’d ever done. Dean was never much of a hugger, but Sam had been, so he had some vague experience with the motion. Though no one would have ever expected him to follow through with it with a kid who vanished into his grip without any effort.  
  
Oscar fidgeted before he understood what was going on. Then, as soon as he recognized a hug for what it was, as a gesture he hadn't received in a _year,_ it was like months of stress fell away. He curled up tighter, accepting it for a short moment that offered him a lot of comfort. Then, he twisted around so he could place both hands on Dean's palm again, the same way he'd done before. His _I'm okay_ signal.  
  
Recognizing Oscar’s movement from earlier that day, Dean drew his hand away from his chest and met Oscar’s tiny eyes for a moment as he considered where the kid would stay. Up until now, Oscar just hung around wherever Dean was, and went home when it was time to sleep, or do chores, as Oscar claimed. Now, he’d need a place to call his own.  
  
There weren’t too many options, and Dean didn’t like the idea of Oscar being too far away from him while they slept. If there were any spiders around, the table or anywhere out in the open would be dangerous, and the floor had dangers all its own.  
  
An idea hit when he spotted the unused pillow sitting on his bed. Dean didn’t move much when he slept, mostly just curling into his own spot due to having to share the occasional bed with Sam while he was around, a thought that hurt Dean to remember. His little brother would _sprawl_ , taking over as much of the bed as possible and usually leaving Dean with just a corner.  
  
With that in mind, Dean walked over to the bed and lowered his hand to the pillow. Oscar would certainly have plenty of space to himself.  
  
Oscar's eyebrows shot up and he peered over the edge of Dean's hand before looking back up at the human. He'd been up on the bed several times since he started coming to the room, but never on one of the pillows. He gave Dean a shaky smile before gathering his blanket in his arms again and scooting to the plush surface.  
  
He sank just enough to feel like he was on a fluffy cloud. It was even softer than his nest of blankets. He pushed a hand into it and chuckled as it poofed back up.  
  
"This whole thing is bigger than my house," Oscar announced, stifling a momentary pang of longing for his home. He'd only just left it behind, but he already felt the impact of what he'd done. He couldn't turn back after he escaped that lonely little place. "And softer, too!" he chirped, dragging himself out of the thoughts before they planted any doubts. He spread his blanket haphazardly over his lap and patted it down to busy his hands.  
  
Any thoughts of the future problems Dean might have when his dad found out about Oscar were gone as he saw how vulnerable the little guy looked sitting there in the pillow by himself. He barely took up any space at all.  
  
Dean sank down against his own pillow, and snapped the TV on. There was no school the next day, so he surfed around, searching for a movie for them to watch. Plenty of time for Oscar to adjust to the room around him, and for Dean to think about what he was going to do about this kid he’d just said he’d take in and help. It wasn’t like Oscar could eat them out of house and home… Hell, _mice_ probably ate more than he did.  
  
All those doubts were pushed out of Dean’s head as he finally found an old _Star Trek_ playing.  
  
Oscar watched the screen with wide eyes. He had learned early on that his many questions about the tv shows they watched would go unanswered. He didn't bother Dean with his curiosity, though it seemed like a new question came up every five minutes this time around.  
  
He supposed, now that he'd gone ahead with his crazy plan to try to stay with a human, he might find out one day.  
  
If he knew anyone, they'd call him crazy. They might even try to drag him away and keep him from Dean for his own safety. Oscar sighed quietly and clutched at his blanket. He stood by his decision, even though he had no idea what was to come.  
  
Eventually, the movie reeled him in more than his worry, and after that, his eyelids slowly began to droop. He stifled many yawns before he leaned over on the pillow and tugged his blanket up over his shoulders. His body looked even smaller when he curled up under the covering like he usually did. He watched the room with tired eyes from the safety of his blanket, with most of his face covered up.  
  
Dean didn’t notice at first that Oscar had dropped off into sleep. He contentedly watched the movie, his mind going over the many ways Kirk was better than Picard; starting with the way Kirk was always ready to get down and dirty with the enemy, tossing himself into one on one combat with Klingons and Gorn and any other takers, and was a master of so many different forms of combat, just the way Dean planned to be.  
  
As the credits rolled across the scene, Dean glanced to the side and his eyebrows went up at the sight. Oscar had curled into the tiniest ball possible under the little blanket he’d brought, and if Dean didn’t know he was there he’d have a hard time telling there was a _person_ under there.  
  
The night was growing late, so Dean opted to turn off the television. His instincts as a big brother said loud and clear that Oscar could use the sleep, especially after his quick but powerful burst of emotion earlier.  
  
After Dean turned the light in the room off, he collapsed on his side of the bed. He dropped quickly into sleep, already practiced at a young age at what his father called a ‘hunter’s sleep.’ He wasn’t conscious as he pulled the second pillow close to himself, compelled to watch over the tiny child he’d volunteered to take care of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're both just lonely kids that need a friend, and Oscar needs a family...
> 
> The next poll will be in a few weeks, and after this story we will be switching to one post a week, on Wednesdays!
> 
> As a special event for the switch, we'll be posting the next part of Aftermath: A Series of Consulted Shorts. The Borrower and the Baker is a huge part of where Dean and Stan's development grew out of, and it's kind of a story within a story, for the simple fact that instead of the usual one or two chapters, it's a full seven! So be sure to come along with us on that journey if you're a fan of Brothers Consulted! It will begin posting on March 10th to give us a slight break between stories.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!
> 
> **Final:** February 28th, 2021


	10. On the Road Again

The following days were a mix of confusion and excitement for Oscar. Waking up in a huge room on a gigantic pillow left him dazed until he remembered where he'd fallen asleep. He'd found shortly after that Dean had curled an arm around the pillow protectively. Oscar was safe there, no matter what his instincts told him about the huge expanse of the room around him.  
  
Sometimes, the temptation would strike him to scurry into the walls again or to hide. His instincts, formed by a lifetime of living in the walls out of sight, weren't prepared for the open space around him all the time; even in the previous week, he'd spent most of his time in the walls.  
  
He still got to eat plenty of food, and he even found some time to work on his sewing when his nerves ran too high. _That_ certainly fascinated his quiet human friend. Dean could scarcely see the needles Oscar used for his sewing.  
  
After their first full day, Dean had to go to school. Oscar, not wanting to stay in the room by himself and not wanting to go back to his house in the walls after such a sound goodbye, fretted all morning while Dean got ready. If he was alone in the room while one of the maids came in, he could be caught or swatted. It wouldn’t matter that he’d known most of the maids by the sound of their voice since he was a toddler. To them, he was a tiny pest, an invader in the home he was born in.  
  
It didn't take too much coaxing to convince him to go along in a pocket, like he'd done when they visited the park.  
  
The days at school passed him by in a blur. Oscar quickly found out that they were surrounded _all the time_ by humans, humans that _weren't_ quiet like Dean. He was always curled into a ball by the end of the day, cozy but unsettled in the pocket. No one noticed him there.  
  
It was still better than surviving by himself.  
  
By the time a week had passed since Oscar's bold request, he was more prepared for the routine. It almost shocked him to realize they weren't going to school, because it was a _Saturday_ again.  
  
After their lunch, Oscar found himself lying on his front on the table, looking over one of the many pamphlets kept in the motel room. He'd never had a chance to really observe the picture of a serene mountainscape that filled the front of the flyer. According to the bright, colorful lettering, that sight was 'Only 6 miles away!' from the motel.  
  
With two weeks behind him of having a kid smaller than his pinkie around, some of the initial fascination for Dean had worn off. He was absently sketching out some of his homework, distracted by the thoughts on his mind.  
  
All those thoughts fled when he heard a key scrape the lock for their door, and all he knew was reaction.  
  
As the door to the room was shoved open, Dean found himself instinctively leaping to his feet and sweeping Oscar and the pamphlet he was standing on into his hands. He gaped at the person coming in even as he tilted the pamphlet enough for Oscar to roll into his hand, and the pamphlet dropped to the floor.  
  
John Winchester. Back early from his case. An entire _two weeks_ early, leaving Dean with none of the time he thought he’d have to think about how to break Oscar’s existence to the man.  
  
Aside from a passing glance, John barely acknowledged Dean’s presence. He was too caught up in grabbing the items strewn about the room, either tossing them out or into the duffel Dean had pushed up against the dresser.  
  
“Still not talking, I see,” John said gruffly, the disgust in his voice obvious. He refused to realize that different people grieved differently and saw Dean’s temporary mutism as an inconvenience. “Your teachers called me and said you’ve been skippin’ out on your shrink. _I_ told them not to worry about it since you won’t be going back there anymore.”  
  
The remains of the food Dean had on hand was swept from the table and the top of the mini-fridge into a plastic bag, and the loaf of bread was tossed into the trash. Dean winced, remembering how Oscar was with food. A few of the slices in there could feed the child for a long time. Not to mention the memory of all the times Dean needed to take the five finger discount for food like that just to keep enough for Sam to eat at home.  
  
“You’ll talk eventually,” John kept on going, talking to himself more than Dean at the moment. He nodded with approval at the salt lines across the windows and door, and frowned at the line across the vent. He didn’t seem to spot the tiny footprints in it from Oscar crossing over. “I know you can. You’re just… punishing me over Sam.”  
  
Dean’s eyes hardened and his fingers curled close around Oscar, but he said nothing to defend himself.  
  
John knew nothing. It was _Dean’s_ fault Sam was gone.  
  
Pushing past Dean, John dug under the pillow on the teen’s bed and looked slightly mollified to find the Colt hidden away. “Guess there’s hope for you yet,” he muttered as he held out the gun. When Dean didn’t reach for it, John paused, his eyes falling to Dean’s hands. Which were obviously hiding something.  
  
“What’s in your hands, boy?”  
  
In Dean's hands, Oscar shook. He hadn't even had time to yelp in surprise when Dean swiftly picked him up, and the sight of a new human in their midst locked his voice up. When he'd asked Dean if he could stay, he hadn't even thought this far ahead. He hadn't thought about what he'd do when another human shoved his way into the mix.  
  
That voice, after weeks of Dean's quiet, felt like it shook the air. Even Dean's teachers and classmates didn't command as much attention as his father did. Oscar remembered hearing tall humans like that from his haven in the walls.  
  
They always scared him when they yelled, even if it was only over a sports game.  
  
Now, at least, he had someone on his side to look out for him. Still, even with the cave-like protection of Dean's cupped hands around him, Oscar's timid nature took priority.  
  
He took a chance to lean to the side and peek between two of Dean's fingers. The sight almost froze him. Dean's father was tall, and his face even more enigmatic and world-worn than Dean's. He was stern, frustrated even. Oscar ducked away with the knowledge that the human had to have seen him.  
  
Left with no other options, Oscar curled into himself, hugging his legs close and hiding his face. _Don't hurt me,_ he pleaded silently, eyes shut tight.  
  
At an angle John wouldn’t be able to see, Dean curled his thumb inwards and touched against Oscar’s arm to reassure him. The tiny kid was trembling hard enough for Dean to make it out, loud and clear, a lot like that first day they’d met.  
  
He really should have seen it coming.  
  
Not once, in all the times that Dean was stuck at some no-tell motel, had his father ever returned at the time he said he would. Mostly that meant that Sam and Dean would be stuck staying there past their initial check out time, and had to find a way to fork over the cash. Other times he’d come bursting in early, tearing the brothers out of the school they were enrolled in, not to mention any friends they’d managed to make in their time. It was why Dean would rather stay with Bobby if he had a choice - at least there they knew they’d have food on the table if John was late.  
  
John frowned, his expression severe. He was just as frozen in place as Oscar was at the sight of a tiny child in _his_ child’s hand. “You don’t know where that came from or what it is,” he said firmly, shattering the trance. “Put it down!”  
  
At that, one of his hands went for Dean’s wrist, intending to force his hands open. Dean stepped back, angling himself to put his arms out of reach, and the next thing that happened shocked them all.  
  
“ _No._ ”  
  
After weeks of being unable to talk because his voice would choke up inside his chest, Dean finally burst free of his impediment. His eyes narrowed and he cupped Oscar closer as John froze again. It was so long since Dean had used his voice it came out of his chest gruff and hoarse; but his refusal stood, clear as day. The echo of it danced around them, his defiant stand against his father after weeks of weathering the scathing comments.  
  
“ _What_ did you say?” John asked in a command.  
  
Dean straightened his shoulders as he faced off against his dad. Never before had he considered defying John’s orders, but here… Oscar was only a kid, and _someone_ needed to stand up for him and help him. Dean had taken that on the moment he said Oscar could stay.  
  
“I _said_ no,” he repeated firmly. “Oscar’s just a kid, and he’s all on his own. _Alone_ , with no one to watch after him. I’m _not_ leaving him here.”  
  
Oscar didn't know what to focus on first. After hearing the scathing words against him, he'd thought for sure that he'd be sent away by Dean's dad if not locked up or worse. During the jostling around, he curled up even more to protect himself from whatever might happen.  
  
Despite all that, nothing could have prepared him for Dean to _speak._  
  
Weeks without saying a word were brushed aside as Dean spoke up, his voice gaining strength in the chest near where Oscar huddled. Oscar stared straight up, his lips parted. His own voice felt so much smaller now, just pitiful squeaks of fear. If he talked, the others could drown him out easily.  
  
Oscar uncurled himself to turn around and peer out at Dean's father again. The inscrutable look on the face above him set his nerves racing again and he ducked out of sight. He didn't want to push his luck with a potentially angry human. The man already talked about him like some kind of pest.  
  
At least Dean was shielding him. Oscar placed a hand on a nearby finger and hoped dearly that the larger human wouldn't come for him again. He was counting on Dean more than he ever realized he would need to when he first came into the room with his blanket bundled in his arms.  
  
Dean and John stared at each other, unblinking during the standoff. John was the first one to look away, his gaze drawn back down to where Dean’s hands were cupped. Dean slowly uncurled his hand, letting John see the tiny child he held but staying at the ready in case the hunter lunged.  
  
“He’s barely _two inches tall,_ dad,” Dean said evenly, his voice forceful despite the weeks without being used. “Do you _really_ think he’s dangerous?” Dean was disdainful at the thought. “He lost his family and was surviving off scraps. I’m not going to send him back to that.”  
  
John scowled, but some of his intensity started to go down. “Where did you find him?”  
  
Dean nodded at the floor. “Running from me and trying to hide.”  
  
With a huff, John turned away. “If you want him to come along, you better be ready to watch out for him. I don’t need him getting in the way when I’m on a hunt.”  
  
Dean narrowed his eyes, but in that moment saw his victory. “He’s not going to get in the way. You won’t even know he’s around. He’ll stick with me.” He lifted up his hands, looking at Oscar square in the face. “That is… if it’s still what you want, Oz.”  
  
Oscar had his arms hugged around himself and he still trembled, but he nodded mutely. Being the center of attention was basically anathema to someone like Oscar, especially someone who grew up as timid as he had. He glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder and then quickly averted his gaze from John. It would take more effort to get used to that human.  
  
A lot more effort.  
  
Instead, he focused on Dean. "Y-yeah," he said quietly, feeling so meek after the stern voices passed back and forth over his head. "I don't wanna get left behind again."  
  
His trepidation morphed suddenly into a confused frown. Another glance around the room, and then he spoke in an almost conspiratorial voice. "You called me 'Oz,’ not Oscar," he pointed out.  
  
A brief smirk graced Dean’s face, despite the seriousness and urgency of their situation. “That’s right,” he said, suddenly realizing how _good_ it felt to be able to speak up for himself. The wall in his mind that had held him back for so long was finally shattered, all in the name of defending the small kid in his hands.  
  
He looked up at John, and didn’t explain himself further as he shifted his hands so only one held Oscar, and held out his hand for the colt, clearly expecting John to hand it over. Which he did, begrudgingly. Of all the weapons John owned, this one was Dean’s and always would be.  
  
“We need to head out fast,” John said gruffly, glancing briefly at Oscar again before ignoring him. “The monster slipped me and might be able to track us back here, so we’re going to head to Bobby’s and try and catch it off guard. _Don’t_ let me see him getting in the way.”  
  
Dean scoffed as he tucked his gun in his pants and concealed it from view with his jacket. “I know what to do on a hunt. I think I can handle this.”  
  
Oscar's tiny hands grasped at Dean's thumb for stability amidst the excitement. He saw the gun glint in the light as it passed between humans and didn't recognize what it was. Something told him it was serious. He watched Dean's face and suddenly wondered what kind of human he'd become so attached to over the last couple of weeks.  
  
"A _monster?_ " he echoed weakly, glancing at Dean's father yet again. He didn't look like the kind of man to make things up, and Dean accepted it without issue. "Ohhh." He couldn't help the quiet noise that escaped, a mix of exasperation and confusion and worry.  
  
"Dean, my blanket," he said, a little louder but still so softly. The tattered cloth wasn't much, but it was his, and it remained on the pillow he slept on at night.  
  
Dean ruffled Oscar’s hair with a thumb, then walked over to the bed. “Don’t worry, Oz,” he said reassuringly, “you don’t have to worry about the monsters. Dad’s a hunter, and I’m gonna be one too. I’ll always look out for you.”  
  
The blanket was tiny between his fingers, barely a scrap of cloth. Dean tucked it away into his pocket, knowing his dad was standing there, impatiently waiting for him to leave. With a sigh, Dean held Oscar up next to the pocket. “You can come out when we’re in the car, okay?” he asked, bridging his fingers over the gap and slightly tilting them for Oscar. Despite John’s impatience, Dean didn’t take his eyes off Oscar, knowing a fall from this height could be fatal if the kid slipped over the edge of his fingers.  
  
Oscar nodded and scooted himself towards the pocket. Despite knowing that he would be almost completely at Dean's mercy in a pocket with one difficult way out, he didn't waste time. The enclosed space invited him in to counter the nerves of the last several minutes. A weight left his tiny shoulders when he slipped into the pocket and out of sight.  
  
He landed on his blanket and immediately shifted around to tug it over his shoulders instead. It was all happening faster than he ever anticipated. He was leaving his motel home behind, for real. The thudding heartbeat nearby offered him an anchor and Oscar sighed, resolving himself for whatever was to come.  
  
He was ready.  
  
 **FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally found his voice again, when he needed to defend his new friend.
> 
> Oscar, in the meantime: He TALKS?!
> 
> John isn't a complete ass, fyi, he's just laser focused when he thinks there's something supernatural around his kid. He'll definitely allow Oscar to stay with Dean, so long as Dean holds up his end of the bargain!
> 
> And so, the stage is set for Brothers Unexpected. Each brother has found their way into the human or borrower world separately, forging new friendships. What does the future hold for them? We'll soon find out!
> 
> So far, we have a short story written for each of the brothers, and we're hoping to continue on in that fashion as they grow up. If you have any story ideas you want to see or any questions for them, please submit them to the brothers apart tumblr, because we're always looking for new ideas!
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!
> 
> **Next story:** ?????
> 
> The next poll will be in a few weeks, and after this story we will be switching to one post a week, on Wednesdays!
> 
> As a special event for the switch, we'll be posting the next part of Aftermath: A Series of Consulted Shorts. The Borrower and the Baker is a huge part of where Dean and Stan's development grew out of, and it's kind of a story within a story, for the simple fact that instead of the usual one or two chapters, it's a full seven! So be sure to come along with us on that journey if you're a fan of Brothers Consulted! It will begin posting on March 10th to give us a slight break between stories.

**Author's Note:**

> Brothers Unexpected continues with the second part of our series; this one focusing on Dean and Oscar!
> 
> Be sure to pop on by the poll I have going, after this story finishes posting we will be going to one day a week story updates, and you can vote for what day of the week you want to see stuff post!


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